Alpha Control, Dangerous Lessons
by emileerocksyoursocks
Summary: An AU in which Derek isn't really a graceful Alpha. Stiles is his Yoda. Strong T rating, warnings before chapters. Slash.
1. Being Human

Summary: Derek's the Alpha now, and Stiles is worried for him. So he goes to help him out.

* * *

Stiles is worried. Scott has told him he shouldn't be, but he can't help it. Derek's the Alpha now - the goddamn head douchebag, actual and literal Alpha werewolf - which meant more danger. Scott has told him that Derek is a big boy and can handle it himself, but Stiles' reasoning is that Scott believes himself to be a big boy and even he needed help when he was starting out. He thinks of Derek's change from Beta to Alpha is like being bitten and starting out all over again. The older teen would have to learn control again, and if he's a Yoda to Scott, he can be a Yoda to Derek. So, here he was, getting out of his Jeep at the old, charred remains of Hale house, his best friend and father thinking he's studying at the library. He doesn't usually lie to Scott, but this time he feels like the lie is needed, or he would have him following around and making things worse.

He thinks about bringing a bat in. He really does. He doesn't know what to expect of Derek, but he thinks it would be like Scott's behavior, only amplified. But he decides against it in the end. This is Derek Hale, born werewolf, totally in control of himself and emotionless… except when he has him pinned angrily against walls, getting in his face and making him scared. It gets his heart pumping, maybe that's what Derek liked about it the most. Nevertheless, he makes his way up to the house and quietly shows himself inside. He looks around before his eyes move to the stairs, feet starting to do the same, hand on the rail. He's never been upstairs before.

"Derek?" He calls softly, knowing he doesn't need to be overly loud, and that he really shouldn't be with one of the various states Derek could be in. He makes his way up the stairs, wondering which room the wolf's in. He doesn't have to look very far when he sees claw marks and blood on one of the doors. He should be more scared than he actually is as he pulls his sleeve over his hand and grabs the doorknob, turning it with an echoing thump, hinges creaking as he slowly pushes it open. It reminds him eerily of a haunted house in a horror movie, where the character who goes into the house gets slaughtered without mercy. That isn't a good way to think about things, he decides, and pushes the thought away.

He isn't completely ready for what he sees next. The walls are splattered with blood, deep claw marks dragged across the walls and floors, and the mattress in the corner of the room. There's rubble scattered around, pieces of wood from the ceiling on the floor, some of it from the fire, some looking more recent. There's no door on the closet, and the items inside looking like they've be forced out. He cautiously walks over to it.

There's bloody hand prints on the door frame. He takes his flashlight out of his back pocket and turns it on, shining it into the dark, and into Derek's face. He gasps softly at his appearance; clothes dirty and slightly ripped, dried blood on his hands and white shirt, and he looks to be unconscious. There's a lot of blood, and he hopes to God he hasn't just happen upon a dead body.

He kneels down and puts two fingers to the other's neck, right on his pulse point and feeling it, really slow, but it spikes a bit at the touch. Stiles looks him over more closely, a sliver of blue around his upper arm. He pulls his sleeve up and saw the light blue rubber band wrapped tightly around his arm, like a doctor who's about to take blood. He doesn't know how long it's been on him, but he sets the flashlight between his lips and reaches both his hands out, undoing it and letting it fall to the floor. His eyes travel down his arm, where a bruise is forming on his inner elbow. _What did you do to yourself?_ Stiles checks the floor around him, and is shocked to find a bottle of… animal tranquilizers? _Shit. Why, Derek? _He takes the flashlight out of his mouth and looks up at the other's face._  
_

"Derek?" He whispers, moving closer to see that he's actually breathing, "Derek." He says a bit louder, watching him stir and groan softly. The younger teen lets out a relieved breath. The wolf starts to breath more normally, coming back to consciousness, opening his eyes after a moment; all hazy and tired. He looks so weak.

"Stiles." It comes out as less than a whisper, more like an exhale, "Get out of here."

"No, I'm not leaving," The kid says, taking a hold of his shoulders and trying to pull him up, "Come on, you gotta get up."

"No. No, stop it. Leave me alone." Derek protests, a bit surprised the smaller teen can actually be getting him up. He tries to help, just to put some distance between them, but the tranquilizers make it tough. Stiles manages to drag him over to the ripped up mattress before they collapse on the floor next to it. He sits the older teen back up and opens up what seems to be the only window intact - no matter how warped and horrible the glass looks - in the whole house, letting the breeze get to them.

"Are you okay? What happened to you?" The lacrosse player asks, holding the other's head up, watching him try to keep his eyes open.

"Why do you care?" The wolf almost snarls, trying to swat the smaller teen's hands away.

"Because being a human who cares about _stupid_ animals, I'm here to help you." Stiles gives back, pushing his hands away, "Now, you have to suck it up, because I have to get you down those stairs and into my car."

"No, leave me here, Stiles. It's not safe for you." Derek tries pushing him away again, but he feels too weak, too tired.

Stiles gets close, faces inches apart, making the other teen look at him, "If you haven't noticed, I don't care about my own safety."


	2. Home Sweet Police Station

Summary: Stiles gets Derek home, and into his bed… But it's not how it sounds, even though the Sheriff thinks otherwise.

* * *

Stiles isn't completely sure how he's done it, but he's gotten the wolf into his Jeep and gotten him home. He has trouble getting him up the stairs to his room, but gets it after a few tries. Now he has Derek in his bathroom, trying to clean him off before be passes out again. The older teen tells him that he feels tired again, and to just let him be, but Stiles won't have it. He wants him rid of the blood and dirt, and they'll figure out what to do later. He cleans him off as best he can and now has a shirtless Derek into his bed. He moves away from him for less than sixty seconds to get one of his bigger shirts, and he's passed out again. But he's actually sleeping this time, so it's easier on the younger teen's mind. He takes the shirt over and sits on the edge of the bed, debating on what to do. He doesn't want his Dad to find Derek in his room, but if he does, he would rather not have him shirtless. _Right?_ He bites his lip and looks back at the wolf, then at the shirt in his hands. _Damn it._

He crawls up the bed and haphazardly straddles Derek's hips, looking at him slumped against his headboard. Moving closer, he grabs him by his shoulders and starts to get his shirt on. He manages to wake the older teen up about halfway, but Derek still won't help him out - asshole wolf - insistent for him to just stop caring. So he leans against Stiles and lets his head lay on his shoulder while Stiles tries to make him put clothes on.

"Hey, Stiles, do you think you could—?" Sheriff Stilinski opens his son's bedroom door, and is caught with the sight of his little boy in another boy's lap. Stiles turns his head and his eyes widen, hands freezing on the lower buttons of the shirt he's putting on Derek. The wolf buries his face in Stiles' neck, hiding it from the kid's father.

"D-Dad… This isn't what it looks like." Stiles tries to get up, but the wolf weakly holds him in place by hands on his hips, with everything he has left.

_Does Dad know him? Christ, what if he does? It would be bad for both of us._ Stiles thinks as Derek grips to him. The Sheriff, on the other hand, just wants to know what's going on.

"…I'm getting my gun." He says and swiftly leaves the room, causing Stiles to almost yelp in horror. He pushes Derek away from him and cringes slightly as his head hits the headboard with an unsettling thump, and the wolf looks up at him with half hooded and tired eyes.

"What the hell was that about, huh? Now my dad's gonna kill you! You have to hide, o-or leave." The younger teen moves away from him, off the bed, urging him to get up.

"Stiles, I can't feel my legs." Derek says softly, actually trying to pull himself up, but after enough animal tranquilizers - that have double dosing time releases - to put down two full grown moose, he's in trouble. Stiles looks like he's going to kill him himself, or at least have a heart attack.

"Jesus Christ! What am I going to do? …Has my dad ever seen you, seen you? Like, right in your face I-know-that's-him kinda thing?" Stiles tries to think, ideas rapidly growing in his mind, making his head a bit dizzy, actually.

"No, the first time he caught me, I had a hood on and I got away. The second time it was one of his partners, and they took my picture, but I made sure it didn't come out right. And then all the other times… Well, he doesn't know me." The wolf tells him, trying to button up the shirt. The other teen races to help him, and they hear footsteps pounding down the hall.

"Can you keep yourself sitting up?" The quirky teen asks him, getting a nod. He helps him up, legs hanging off the bed in a totally I-wasn't-fixing-to-fuck-your-son way, just in time for Stiles to get over to the door before the Sheriff is there again, old Winchester in hand, looking angry. Derek braces for a shot.

"Dad, please stop. P-Please." He looks up at him with a pleading expression, his father's eyes softening when they meet his, "…We weren't gonna do anything."

"Stiles… Why didn't you tell me you… liked boys?" Sheriff Stilinski asks, eyes glancing up to the older teen on the bed, now with his head in his hands.

The younger teen doesn't know what to say about that one. He's been curious about things like that, but he's never actually acted on any of it, "I-I just… I wanted you to know when I was ready. But uh, I guess now I sort of ruined that. His… parents kicked him out… after they beat him, and he has nowhere to go."

The Sheriff moves his gun to his side, sighing. He wasn't actually gonna shoot him, anyway. "I don't even know how to feel about this."

"If it's any consolation, I'm sorry and I'll find a way to my uncle's house tomorrow. Plus, my dad hit me so hard against a wall… I think I might pass out." Derek chimes in weakly, making the two others look over at him.

"I-I have to take care of him." Stiles frowns up at his father before making his way over to the wolf and taking him into a hug - _oh god I'm sorry you're gonna hate me for hugging you shit shit shit_ - letting him lean against him. Stiles actually feels heartbroken when the other teen lets out a real-sounding sob against his shoulder.

Sheriff Stilinski doesn't want this boy to stay in his son's bedroom, but with his home situation... he has to think about it. He watches how Stiles comforts him softly, telling him it would be okay, and he's proud of his son for being such kindhearted. Stiles always goes in fully with something when his heart's in it, "He can stay tonight… But the door stays open. And I don't want to find you two like that again, you hear me?"

The two teens part for a moment and Derek presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, making them water as Stiles gives his father a hug. The younger teen smiles a little, "I hear you, Dad. Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," He nodded, then lowers his voice to a whisper, "…What's his name?"

Derek takes in a fake shuddering breath and sniffles, "T-Thank you, Sheriff. I uh, my name's Tyler." He tries to pull himself up from the bed; it's a bad idea, but he knows he should make an effort with a hand extended to shake. It just makes it more believable when his legs won't hold him and Stiles comes running over, putting him back on the bed.

"I told you not to get up. You can't handle it right now." He says, sounding concerned, wiping away one of the tears on his cheek. He never thought in a million years that he'd see Derek Hale like this, even if he's lying through his teeth. He's convincing. The wolf nods, leaning into the touch like he actually wants it.

"You should probably relax... Dinner's at six. I expect both of you down there." The Sheriff says before leaving the room, going to put his gun back, sighing at how confused he is now.

Stiles puts his hands on Derek's shoulders, making him stay upright. He makes a face, "Tyler?"

"When I spent time in Canada, I had a fake name… Can I lay down now?"

The younger teen takes a moment, then nods, "Yeah, of course you can."

"…Can you help me?"

His tone sounds calm; soft. It was something Stiles hasn't heard until today, and it's so different to him, but he likes it. It makes him want to comply. It makes him want and not be scared of that want. He moves the wolf's legs back on the bed, then helps him scoot up to the pillows, not even feeling awkward when he has to be close to get him comfortable before he settles down. He's leaning over him, and Derek picks himself up enough to be on his elbows, from where previously his head had been on the pillows.

"What?" He breathes out, watching the way the younger teen's eyes flutter almost closed before he shakes himself out of it. He doesn't know why he likes it so much, but he suddenly wants to replay the movement in his head over and over.

"I-I…"

"Stiles, what did I tell you?" He hears his father's voice from behind him, and he turns, seeing his arms crossed over his chest with an unhappy expression. He grins apologetically, and he removes the hand that had settled high on the older teen's thigh.

"N-No more catching us like that, got it." He nods and so does the Sheriff, shooting a glance at Derek before leaving his spot in the hallway.

_It's going to be a long night._


	3. Half Plan

Summary: Stiles wonders how much of Derek's behavior is real while he desperately tries to figure out his next steps.

* * *

Dinner goes by slowly, dreadfully slow for Stiles, watching his father and Derek take glances at each other. Derek still looks horribly pale and isn't eating very much, Stiles mirroring his consumption. He's nervous something will happen, so he's pretty much half off his seat the whole time. He relaxes visibly when his father says they can go, and has an edge to his voice that suggests he better be careful with having Derek alone.

After he's hauled him up the stairs and gotten him back into bed, Derek's lying there staring up at the ceiling when Stiles speaks up, "You can't just drug yourself into dulling your Alpha senses," He says and watches the wolf's head turn slightly. He sits up a bit in his computer chair, knowing he has his attention now.

"It was stupid, Derek. You need to learn to ask for help. I could have helped you." Stiles reprimands, but sounds a bit hurt. Doesn't he know he's someone to come to for help, even if he doesn't want to admit he needs it? Stiles has spent this whole werewolf ordeal thinking that was the way of the land.

"I could have killed everyone." Derek tells him monotonously, not looking towards the teen, tapping his slightly numb fingertips against his abdomen.

"Do you not understand the words 'I could help you'?" He says sharply, and Derek looks at him then, trying a glare that doesn't really take. Which was odd, because Derek could always pull off a glare if he wanted to.

"What could you have done?" The wolf asks, because honestly, he doesn't know what other path there is. He will continue to drug himself until he figures out a way not to hurt people. He loves to intimidate people, but he doesn't want to be a killer of the innocent.

"I… I don't know, I usually just think of something in the moment." Stiles shrugs, but then blurts out for good measure, "But, I can help you. I can… I can be your Yoda."

"My Yoda?"

"Yeah. I've done it with Scott, and I can do it with you."

"Scott's not an Alpha." Derek points out.

"I don't give a shit." The anger in Stiles' voice makes him try and turn his body, hearing the kid's heart pumping faster, "Don't treat me like I don't know anything about wolves. I may not be one and I may not know as much as you, but I watched over Scott when you disappeared. I was alone with your uncle. I've been in life-threatening situations, I know some of what and what not to do around you guys."

Stiles' heart is erratic and he stands, starts to pace the floor. The wolf watches him, "I didn't even—"

"Yes, you did!" The younger teen shouts with his own idea of what Derek's about to say, "I'm going to help you with this, because you can't steal from the animal clinic and drugging yourself isn't good for your human self and—and I worry so much about you so you have to realize that getting out of your father's house will be best, Ty." Stiles is walking over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his half numb hand. Derek smells the Sheriff's cologne and feels eyes on him. He's peeking through the crack of his son's bedroom door. He must have heard the start of Stiles' outburst.

"I know. I'm trying to get out for good. If my uncle," He doesn't like speaking of Peter now even if he's forced to for show. Opening up a little is better than shot in the head at the moment. He sighs, "If he doesn't take me in, I'll find somewhere else to stay. Even if it's some horrible condemned house that no one cares about."

Stiles cringes a bit, Derek speaking of his own house, using the words Stiles himself has used to explain the house. His own next words are more kind. True, "I'm gonna help you with this. You're gonna be okay."

* * *

Stiles couldn't sleep. He just couldn't. He'd been tossing and turning all night on his bedroom floor and all he's managed to do is get tangled up in a blanket. He sighs up at his ceiling and gets up from the floor, padding over to his laptop and plopping down in his chair. _I might as well work if I'm not gonna sleep_, he thinks as he opens his laptop and continues his research. He searches 'how to approach alpha wolves' and opens a book from the library to a section about the transformation from Beta to Alpha. He wants to know exactly what he needs to do, have a plan in mind.

But it's not so easy.

Three hours later and he ends up with not much of a plan of what to do, but what not to do. It's good enough for now, thinking the opposites and his own instincts will be enough to go on. Plus, he's getting pretty incoherent so he can't retain information anymore. He rubs his eyes as he slugs to bed, falling into one side and cuddling into the warm pillow, blanket warm too as if it had just come out of the dryer.

Derek, still weak but getting stronger every second as the medicine wears off, doesn't push the kid away as he curls into his side, heart steady and slow with relaxation of sleep overwhelming him. It doesn't seem right to push him away, being in his house, in his bed. And there's no one here to see that he's still half-awake, alert enough to move and know that Stiles is _cuddling_ into him, burrowing into the warmth his body gives off and tucking his head close. Derek may or may not extend his arm so the kid's neck isn't at such a horrible angle, curving him so he rests right up to him, head now safely onto his shoulder.

"_I don't want him whining about his neck tomorrow_." Is the wolf's only excuse, which he would use if Stiles is to question this embrace. He hopes it doesn't come up, the affection they gave each other today for show is the most he's had in a while… And he thinks it's messing with his mind. Stiles hums softly in his sleep, out of contentment and his nose nuzzles against the wolf's neck.

* * *

In the morning when Stiles opens his eyes, he's met with Derek's jawline blocking the rest of his view. There's a warm arm supporting his head and neck. He's content for a moment, then Derek shifts. When the wolf turns his head toward him he bolts backwards, making a less-that-dignified noise as he falls to the floor.

"Wow." Derek sits up slowly, rubbing a hand over his hair to shake up his bedhead. The kid blushes something fierce and stands shakily, getting his bearings back together.

"Hey… Hey, h-how are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Really?" Stiles moves around the bed, looking at the more active way the wolf's eyes follow him, body able to move with a normal person's ability, "The drugs are wearing off."

"Yeah." The older teen shrugs, leaving the warmth of the bed as he tosses the blankets off him and goes to get up. Stiles' hand is on his arm to help in an instant. He's holding the kid's shoulder for support he doesn't really think he needs before he even realizes what he's doing.

"You got it?" The quirky teen asks, letting Derek lead him to the bathroom.

"I'm fine, Stiles. Just have to piss." He assures, stopping at the threshold of the bathroom. He lets go of the other's shoulder but Stiles' hand doesn't move, "…You gonna hold it for me, too?"

"Oh! No, that would be… weird. Uh, call if you need me." The younger teen removes his hand from him and steps back, "Wait, you should probably take a shower, too."

"Alright." He agrees so Stiles will leave and he can pee. The kid opens his mouth again and he sends a glare his way, successfully making him nod and stumble from the room. He sighs once the door is closed and he leans against the counter for a moment, feeling the sluggish effect the drugs are still having on him now that he's standing up.

Stiles makes sure the door is all the way closed before he heads back to his room. He sits on his bed and then immediately jumps back up, realizing Derek would need new clothes. He walks over and slips on some shoes, tripping a bit on a shoelace. He ties it as he kneels by the bathroom door, "I'll be right back, okay?"

He thinks he hears a grunt on Derek's part and he stands back up, heading down the stairs. He passes his father in the kitchen when he grabs his keys, telling him he was going to get clothes for… Tyler. His father grunts at him before he exits the house.

"They're really not morning people." He mumbles to himself as he gets into his Jeep.

* * *

Being at Derek's house is eerie enough. But with Derek's not there, it's more eerie. He can't give all the creaks of the house or whistles of wind to Derek just trying to scare him. He hastily makes his way up the stairs and begins to check rooms. One is missing half the floor and all the ceiling. Others are covered in ash and dust, cold and depressing. But one, at the end of the hall next to where Stiles had found Derek, is almost untouched by the fire. And it feels… lived in, instead of looking like something out of a horror movie. The room is sparse of indicators on whose it belonged to, but there's a trunk that looks frequently used in the corner.

He drops to his knees in front of it and pushes it open, that earthy musk scent Derek always carries with him hitting Stiles at full force. "Woah." He chuckles softly at himself with liking how the other teen smells - hey, it's a good smell, okay?

He reaches in and grabs two sets of outfits. Most of the items are black or close to it, but there are a few colors here and there. He picks the colors on purpose. He grabs a can of body spray and bundles everything in his arms before closing the trunk and getting up, ready to head back home.

* * *

He bounds up the stairs, noticing the water to the shower not running anymore. He enters his room and almost drops everything in his hands at the surprise he's met with. Derek was laying in bed again, towel the only thing covering him up. It's wrapped around his hips as if he'd gotten out of the shower and directly came into Stiles' room and laid down. The wolf looks up at him somewhat sleepily, rubbing one of his eyes, "Hey."

"Hi." Stiles bites his lip and tries not to stare. He holds out the items gathered from the house, "Brought you these."

"Can't believe you found 'em in all that." He sits up slowly, yawning a bit. The younger teen doesn't know if it's part of the act, or Derek has really fell asleep on his bed like that. He glances over his shoulder to check. They're alone.

"Uh, yeah. Well, I did." He sets them on the bed by the wolf's head, watching him run a hand over his hair. He's hit with the smell of his own body wash. Derek doesn't smell like Derek anymore, he smells like Stiles. He doesn't dare mention it, but it makes him feel good about everything for some reason. Like he can actually help. Like the day has gotten better just like that. He smiles at him warmly, which gets a slightly confused expression before he turns to walk into the bathroom. He grabs a spare toothbrush from the drawer for him.

"We can get something to eat and work on how we're gonna do this." He calls back to Derek softly, then grabs his own toothbrush.

* * *

Derek's chosen to wear a blue shirt along with dark blue jeans. The outfit reminds Stiles so much of the wolf's eyes when he was a Beta. It's good for more than one reason, Derek taking on Tyler fully and helping Stiles with his somewhat pushed back fear about dealing with an Alpha. He's honestly scared to be Derek's Yoda - even if he finds it completely intriguing - but the wolf isn't all bad, he knows that. He's more out of character that he's ever seen him before, and he thinks maybe that helps.

Stiles mulls that over in his mind as he takes another full-mouthed bite of his burger. His eyes flick up to meet Derek's, that have been staring at him intently - or maybe just disgusted with his eating habits. He raises an eyebrow and the wolf shrugs, fiddling with the foil on his burrito.

"Eat, dude. You'll collapse if you don't." Stiles tells him after he's swallowed, watching Derek take a bite. "Good wolf."

He chuckles when there's a low growl emitted at him but the older teen continues to eat, so he doesn't mind. "Since I've given up on talking you out of this… Did you get a plan or are we doomed?"

"I have… Half a plan. Just the 'what not to do' stuff." Stiles shrugs and Derek gives him a look that's partially angry, but then concerned.

"What?"

"You heard me. And that's your first lesson, my young Skywalker. To listen."


	4. Pinned Down

Summary: The first lesson.

* * *

"I don't want to do this."

"Have to. This is your first lesson. Now give me a few minutes head start and then… Go."

Stiles pats Derek's shoulder before starting to walk away, successfully not tripping as he side steps to keep watching the wolf.

"Stiles, this is a stupid idea. I could actually kill you. Like, you could die. Be dead. Really dead." Derek warns to try and get out of it, hating his first lesson already. This could go badly and no one knows where they are. There are miles of woods where police would have to check. Stiles could bleed out too fast for them to find him. To his surprise, Stiles just shrugs.

"Not if you listen." Stiles smiles and turns, starting to run into the woods. Derek closes his eyes and breathes out, honing in on the kid's footsteps staggering and crunching leaves as he goes. He wonders if the trip is on purpose but it makes his Alpha mind switch on, thinking it's a wounded prey's futile get away. He manages to keep himself in place for a few more moments before he shoots off into the forest after it.

Stiles runs up the hill, not daring to look back because he knows he'll fall if he does. He knows Derek doesn't have much control and falling early in the lesson could result in unwanted injury. He fumbles with getting his phone from his pocket and grunts when he stumbles, and slows a moment to get himself back together before dialing Derek's number.

The wolf's taking long strides, sniffing to follow his prey's scent. His phone vibrating in his pocket throws him off a bit, making him swat with clawed fingers to the side of him before leaning against a tree. The thought slowly gets through to him. Someone is calling him. He digs his claws into the tree trunk and breathes deep, the smell of Stiles' body wash swirling around him. It makes him think. Before he hears labored breathing. It triggers something primal again that he can't control for the first time since he was a child.

Stiles pants as he strips off his jacket and throws it onto a branch on one of the passing trees, sprints over a fallen trunk. He's beginning to sweat and he thinks about how bad this idea is. He's actually getting exercise. When he passes ten more trees, he calls Derek again.

Derek trips a bit when his phone buzzes again and he instinctively turns to see, wolf brain starting to really take him over. He's starting to see red and keeps going, growling to himself. The smell of his prey is getting stronger and his heart pounds as he realizes the smell is almost overwhelming. His prey is in the tree. He looks up and tilts his head, not met with the scared eyes of his soon-to-be kill, but Stiles' jacket, sleeves blowing in the soft wind. He reaches up and snatches it, bringing it to his face and feeling the still warm fabric, scent making him momentarily dizzy.

"Derek." His head whips around at the mere whisper that reaches him like it's right in his ear. He follows it instantly, a heartbeat that isn't only his own thundering in his ears. His canines slip out and he propells himself faster, the other teen coming into view. He has his hands out in front of him, a slightly shocked look on his face.

"Derek." Stiles says again, watching the wolf advance on him quickly, no intention of slowing down. But he can't run, that would put him in a lot of trouble. He squeaks when he's tackled to the ground, sharp tipped hand cradling his head before it hits the ground. It's not in comfort though, Derek gripping hard at the back of his neck and breathing hard into his face. He's on top of him, pinning him so he can't move. "D-Derek."

His eyes are glowing red neon and he knows it, but he can't help himself in inhaling Stiles' scent, right along the tendon in his neck. A low growl emits from his throat and he opens his mouth to position his teeth to sink in.

"Derek!" Stiles' voice is too loud to his overactive senses and he recoils, pressing his head to the younger teen's chest and grunting, hearing the erratic heartbeat boom like falling trees and rocks tumbling into the ocean. He grabs his hips and pulls, slamming himself onto the cold forest floor, Stiles gasping as he was settled on top. Derek's eyes are shut tight and his hands are at his sides, digging into the dirt. He makes to move and pace and think of something when Derek growls loudly at him, freezing him in place. His thighs shake involuntarily and he can't get his breathing under control.

"R-Remember, you have to listen. Don't be a jerk and listen to me for once." He starts softly, cautiously setting a hand down on the older teen's chest. "Deep breaths… think about how awesome I am, do something that'll distract you."

He's actually surprised when Derek listens, making a conscious effort to breathe in the crisp afternoon air and calm himself while he lets it out. He thinks of Stiles cuddling into him the night before, the ease of his heart in gentle thumps. Predictable, unlike now. He's brought back to something he deemed himself not allowed to do anymore; he used to love to get Stiles' heart pumping, get his adrenaline up. He does the only thing he can think of and rolls his hips up, the kid gasping and his heart scattering a bit in beats.

He goes through the motion four more times before his claws disappear, canines hiding themselves again. He feels his heartbeat coming down to normal and both of Stiles' hands are on his chest. He brings his own hands up and grabs his biceps, worn fabric of the green plaid he's wearing soft under his fingers.

"Stiles."

"Oh, thank God." He collapses against his chest and takes a relieved breath, "Dude, I knew you could do it. That's great. Perfect. I told you to listen and you did."

"You were scared." Derek states and he hears the shorter teen's nervous, breathy laugh.

"N…No, I-I wasn't." His heart gives him away along with the stutter but the wolf only chuckles.

"Your eyes were big and round and scared."

"Shut up. Let's go back to my house and I can go into shock there." Stiles tells him and sighs, trying to get his body to stop shaking.

"…Then you should get off me." Derek allows himself a smile and opens his eyes, just in time to watch Stiles realize where he is again and stagger up. And then back, falling right on his ass. "Graceful, aren't you?"

Stiles cheeks tint a lovely, deep pink and he grabs his jacket that had been thrown to the ground when Derek leaped at him. He brushes himself off and feels how much his thighs are still shaking. Derek pulls himself from the ground and feels dizzy, the forest spinning before he blinks a few times and comes back to himself. He feels drained and Stiles next to him, buzzing with nervous energy isn't helping. He starts to walk back, beckoning the kid to follow.

"Calm down." He tells him softly, trying to make his voice soothing even though it may not really take. Stiles undoes one of the top buttons on his flannel to get more air and nods.

"Trying."

Derek brushes the dirt from his hands and takes off his jacket. They're silent of their way back to the Jeep, in which Derek gets up the kindness to say, as they hop in, "The phone thing was a good idea."

"Uh, thanks." Stiles starts up the Jeep and turns it around, getting back onto the main road. They both sigh when the cool air gets to them. "So, that went… Alright. Good, even. Let's take a day, then start your next lesson."

"Which is?" Derek rolls his head to look over, feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time. In the back of his mind, he wants so much to clam up again, take on his hard persona. But he can't bring himself to just yet.

"Not quite sure yet. Maybe something with redirecting pain. I used to do it with Scott and it worked, so." The younger teen shrugs, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He lifts his hips and takes it out, pressing the answer button. "Hey, Dad."

"Has he found a different place yet?"

"Nice to hear your voice, too." Stiles sighs. Derek's hand is on the steering wheel next to his, edging them to the side of the road. His foot comes off the gas petal, looking over at him.

"I just… I don't feel all that comfortable with him being in your room." The Sheriff tells him, "I don't want anything happening to you."

"Like what? Nothing bad is going to happen." He says, watching Derek put the Jeep in park. He furrows his brows.

"Stiles, you know what I mean. Now, I don't care if you like him." Stiles groans and tips his head back against the head rest. His father continues, "I don't want him… Taking advantage of you."

"Dad!" He squeaks. Derek setting a hand on his knee.

"Stiles, I'm serious."

"I-I…"

"I'll see you later." Derek whispers and gets out of the car, starting the trek back to his house. It's not that far and it'll be a good time to think, get back to himself.

"Wait! De—Dude, you don't have to go. Dad, he's not gonna do that to me. Well, now you've got him walking away." Stiles pops out of his car and starts to follow the wolf, who has stopped in the middle of the road to look at him.

"Stiles, it's fine. I wanna go home." He says reassuringly. He needs time alone.

"But I don't want you to go." The kid says before he can stop himself, then rubs a hand over his face, pacing a little. He speaks to his father, "I gotta go." He hangs up and looks back up at the wolf, who has a hardened expression.

"I'm not Tyler. I'm not gonna stay at your house and pretend. The drugs are gone from my system. I don't need you—" He stops there suddenly, Stiles' face flashing with an emotion that makes him hold his tongue. He sighs, "I'll see you, Stiles."

The younger brunette watches Derek back away, then turn and jog off into the woods. He sets a hand on his hip and paces, trying to get himself in check. _What was that? 'I don't want you to go'. That was stupid, Stiles._ He makes his way back to his Jeep and gets in, "Ouch. Lesson two, pain redirection. Already in progress."


	5. Bloody Nightmares

_Note:_ If you wish to sob, listen to "Say When" by The Fray while reading, it's the song I listened to while I wrote it.

Summary: Sometimes, things go too far…

* * *

"Come on, you have to learn!" Stiles pushes him again for good measure, making Derek's self control slip that much more.

"Stop it." He growls, eyes starting to glow red. He's feeling a shift coming on but the kid wouldn't quit. This isn't like before, it's stronger, and he doesn't know how to stop it. He falls to his knees and takes deep breaths, bowing his head.

"You have to control this, Derek. You chose this, you killed him. Now you have to be a grown-up about it." The younger teen tells him sternly, kneeling down next to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't you think I know that?" He says through gritted teeth, vision starting to flash in and out of a crimson tint, "But, Stiles, you need to run. You have to run."

"Why? You can't hold it back? You wanted this, and now you can't handle it?" The smaller teen's grip tightens painfully, voice starting to sound demanding and deeper, "You can't do it. You're just a child, a useless child. You couldn't even save your family from the fire."

He growls and pushes him away, but there's a tug, and a pained gasp that makes him look up. Stiles' eyes are big and round; terrified. A hand covers his, and he looks down, claws embedded into the other's abdomen, red starting to bleed out onto the kid's shirt, making him whimper. He doesn't know what to do, he'd only wanted to push him away, he didn't even know that his claws came out. He gently eases the younger teen onto the ground, making him lay, a broken sob racking through him at the pain.

"S-Stiles, I'm so sorry… Let me take them out." He says with a shaky voice, getting a grunt and a nod from the other teen. He sets his free hand next to the wound, and grits his teeth as he swiftly pulls his claws out, a scream erupting from the kid, his body arching up slightly.

There's so much blood. Derek tries to stop the hemorrhaging but he can't, there's just too much coming out. He's terrified. Stiles is crying, and having difficulty breathing, making him gasp for air.

"Stiles, you have to stay with me, you have to stop crying. Please, stop." He looks at the other teen, seeing his watery eyes, the desperation to breathe, his face paler than normal.

"I-I'm gonna die, Derek," The kid says, gasping more softly now, his hands being set over the wolf's, body shaking, "I feel so cold, j-just like they say in the movies. I-It's true."

The older teen's eyes start to water, "N-No, you're not going to die. You can't, do you understand me? No. Stiles, just keep breathing." He hears his heart go from erratic to starting to slow, as does his breathing. He looks around for someone, something that could help.

"Derek, I'm sorry. I-It just hurts so much. You'll take care of my dad, won't you? And Scott, too?" He asks, wheezing slightly.

"Stiles, please don't," He's panicking. He looks behind him, toward the road that lead to the main streets, "Someone help me! Please, help me!"

"No one's coming," Stiles isn't crying anymore, breathing shallow. He turns his head to the side, "I-I can see my mom at the edge of the woods."

The wolf looks in the direction the kid is, and no one's there. A tear slips onto his cheek, "You can't go with her. Y-You can't. You can't leave me, Stiles."

"It's okay. I-I see Laura, Derek. She says it's okay," He looks up at the older teen, "You're not a bad guy, you know. You're one of my best friends. You and Scott. Thank you for being my friend, Derek."

The taller teen starts to sob, nodding, "I-I just wish I could have been better to you."

Stiles' hands squeeze his, "You were just fine. You don't have to worry."

The other's heartbeat is fading, and the kid smiles softly just before it stops all together. Derek concentrates hard to hear it, but he can't. It just isn't there. He breaks down, not being able to believe it. He presses his ear to the kid's chest to hear something; anything. He sobs into the fabric of his shirt, everything about the kid silent. Stiles is never silent, not until now. He sits back up, looking at that pale face, eyes closed. He can feel the blood starting to cool. He shakes his head.

"S-Stiles, don't leave me. Please don't go. Stiles, please! This wasn't supposed to happen! P-Please come back. I'm sorry." He sobs, taking the kid into his arms, holding him to his chest. He rocks him slowly, letting his eyes close while he wishes really hard.

"You're a monster, Derek." A voice whispers from Stiles' dead body, and he's jolted forward, eyes snapping open to the dark of night, a chill coming through the cracks of his bedroom.

He lets out a shuddering breath, turning his head to the side and feeling a wetness roll down his cheeks. He sits up and pulls away the blanket, dark red catching his eye. He looks at his hands, claws retracting, bloody palms and fingers startling him. A sick feeling settles in his stomach even though the blood is his. He punctured his own hands in his sleep, and they're already starting to heal. But the feeling doesn't go away.

He gets up and makes his way to the bathroom, washing off his hands, looking at himself in the broken mirror. He wipes the drying tears from his face, taking a shuddering breath. He takes a few more to steady himself before getting on his shoes and jacket, heading to make sure Stiles is actually safe and warm in his bed.


	6. Worry and Relief

Summary: The day after Derek's dream, he's happy to have Stiles around. Stiles wonders about him, more than he thinks he should.

* * *

"Stiles." Derek comes out of his house, a relieved feeling in his chest to see the other teen up and about, getting things out of the back of his Jeep, innocent and unaware of how lucky he is, or how lucky the wolf thinks he is.

"Hey, Der—Oh!" He's pulled, hands on him, dropping the things he got together as a hand slipped under his shirt. He's suddenly brought back to his father's words about being touched when he doesn't want to be, from the heated conversation they'd had when Stiles came home pissed after Derek left him. "Woah, dude!"

"I'm sorry, I just… Whatever." He forces his hand away from the smooth and uncut flesh of the kid's abdomen, just having to make sure it's not real, that he's actually okay.

"Yeah…" The younger teen nods, fixing his shirt, kneeling down to collect his dropped items. He's a bit surprised when the other teen comes down next to him, helping him.

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?" Derek asks as they stand back up, not taking his eyes off him.

"Um… Sort of. My dad took me to a shooting range once." The kid tells him, getting onto the grassy area of the clearing. He sets down his lacrosse stick and bag of lacrosse balls, along with his air horn and other things that will make Derek annoyed and test his control.

"Good." Is all the wolf says before going back into his house. Stiles shrugs it off, and gets ready to do what he did with Scott, making sure his lacrosse stick is netted tight enough. The older teen comes back out, and Stiles instantly covers his head when he hears the click of a gun.

"D-Derek?" He hesitantly looks up, taking a deep breath of relief when he sees there's no weapon pointed at him, "What are you doing with that?"

The wolf pulls him up by his arm, then holds out the gun to him, "You're going to shoot me today."

"What? No." Stiles instantly holds his hands up, tugging away from the other teen. He is_ not_ going to shoot him, what if he seriously hurts him? What if he kills him? He will not be doing this under any circumstances.

Derek rolls his eyes and grabs him again, pulling him close. He doesn't dare let his eyes flash; doesn't dare let the wolf in just a little. The hard stare he puts on the younger teen works, has him stuttering and agreeing. He gives him the weapon, and backs up to tell him what's going to happen. Stiles bites his lip and keeps the gun pointed at the ground, holding it correctly like his father's shown him, finger not on the trigger. He looks up at the wolf with an expectant face.

"You're going to fire one shot, into my leg, and then you're going to put the gun down and wait. Got it?" The older teen watches him nod, and he nods in return.

"…Wait, right now?"

"This is my next lesson. Pain redirection. You made it up. So yes, now."

Stiles puts his finger on the trigger and points the gun at him, hoping to God that he's a good shot. He glances to Derek's face, seeing he's ready, then fires. The wolf falls to the ground with a loud grunt, instinctively grabbing his thigh because of the pain, anger starting to course through his veins. The kid puts the weapon down, then runs to the older teen, heart pounding at seeing the blood staining his hands and seeping into his dark jeans. He gets to his knees and sets his hands on the wound. He hears Derek scream in pain, and his body jerks away, eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched.

"Fight it, Derek. You gotta fight it." The younger teen says a bit shakily, looking back down to his leg, crimson all over his own hands now as well, spouting from his inner thigh. The older teen does his best to calm down with taking deep breaths, trying to handle the pain in a different way, to keep him human. He lets himself relax, and the healing process starts, blood stopping and the bullet falling out from the rebuilding flesh, into Stiles' hand.

The younger teen goes silent, staring up at Derek's face, wanting him to control it. Not only for his own safety, but for Derek's as well. After a moment of thinking through the ritual of _deep breaths, think about how awesome I am, do something that'll distract you_, Derek opens his eyes, taking another minute before slowly sitting up. They meet eyes, and the kid knows he's okay. He feels the hand wrap around his wrist and he looks down, skin getting smeared with blood, Derek's hand pulling his own away from his leg.

"We should uh, g-get you cleaned up." He says, clearing his throat and standing, bringing Stiles up with him. He takes him into the house, hand not moving from his wrist as he leads him upstairs, and into the bathroom. He turns the water on for him and makes sure it's warm before he leaves him alone, going to get new jeans on and clean himself up. Stiles' hands are shaking slightly as he washes them off, Derek's blood making him worry. He actually can bleed out, he isn't invincible. That scares him more than having him as an Alpha. He moves the bullet around in his palms, letting out a deep breath.

"Hey, you okay?" The wolf asks as he fixes his belt, seeing the kid jump, the bullet falling into the sink with a loud clink.

"I'm fine," He promises, looking over at him leaning against the doorway, "How are you?"

"Alright." Derek shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. Stiles notices he's all cleaned up. He turns off the water and wipes his hands on his thighs, also noticing his t-shirt is bloody.

"Damn." He mumbles to himself. He moves by the other teen, stopping in front of him, "Are you sure you're okay?"

The older teen nods, but Stiles takes a closer look at his face, bags under his eyes and a stressed look on his face. The taller teen lets him look, but furrows his brows as the kid's hand comes up to touch his face. The younger teen sees the small flicker of red in the other's eyes and starts to pull his hand away, but notices him lean into it, like he doesn't want it to go away. That makes Stiles' brain start to spark with thoughts and possible ideas of what that could mean, and maybe he'd overthink it later.

He clears his throat and steps away, rubbing the back of his neck idly, "L-Lesson three, communication. Day after tomorrow, okay?"

All he gets is a nod before he descends the stairs and leaves the house. He gathers his things and piles them back in his Jeep, taking the clip out of the gun and setting the safety back on just because, leaving it on Derek's porch. He shrugs off his over shirt before opening the driver's side door to his Jeep. He sets it on the seat and sheds his bloody shirt, balling it up and throwing it in the passenger seat. He grabs his over shirt and pulls it on, buttoning it up.

Derek tugs open his belt and backs away from the window, cursing lowly under his breath.


	7. Comfy Blankets

Warnings: Dirty dreams, masturbation

Summary: With the full moon inching it's way closer, a lesson in communication has Derek being… Affectionate?

* * *

Stiles gets taken by a dream that night. His sheets still smell of Derek and the memory of his first two lessons are still fresh in his mind. He tosses and turns, gripping at the sheets while his mind runs a muck.

Derek's over him again, pinning him. His arms are above his head and the smell of Derek was everywhere, the heat of his body, weight pressing Stiles to the ground. He has his mouth on Stiles' neck, suckling marks into his pale flesh and nipping softly at his jaw.

Derek's marking him, showing him he's owned by someone. His dick is hard and Derek knows it, lowering his own hips down for him to grind against. He's whimpering and moaning shamelessly and Derek's laughing lowly, almost darkly into his ear. It's turning him on more than he would like to admit and when Derek starts to groan, it just makes it that much better, pushing him closer and closer to—

"O-Oh, fuck." He wakes with a jolt and whimpers immediately, length hard and throbbing, so close to coming it's crazy. He pushes the blankets away and shoves a hand into his boxers, taking himself out. He hikes up his shirt with his free hand and strokes himself, laying his head back and breathing unevenly. It doesn't take him long, just a few more pumps and an accidental inhale of the pillow Derek slept on. He tries to get away from the guilt by getting up and heading for a shower right away.

—

When Stiles comes downstairs he sees that his father is already awake. Maybe he hasn't even gone to bed even though he had told him to. He lazily makes himself a bowl of cereal and sits at the table, "Did you even sleep?"

"No." His father responds, looking up at him wiped out and tired. Stiles sighs and his father waves a hand hand at him. "Don't start, it's fine. Couldn't sleep if I wanted to. Where's uh, that guy?"

"Um, Tyler?"

"Yep. He went to his uncle's, right?"

"Yes." Stiles says begrudgingly, the embarrassment of that day coming back to him, the hard look on Derek's face when he told him he wasn't actually Tyler. It was really just a show and he doesn't want to admit he kind of liked the behavior that the Tyler persona provided. But Derek is Derek and there's no changing that. The guy will always partly hate him whether Stiles helps him or not.

The Sheriff sighs, "I'm sorry, kid. I was rough on you about him. You gotta understand, though… I mean, I found you in his lap, ready to do God knows what and—"

"Dad, I'm sorry." He apologizes even if he doesn't know what for. He stabs at a marshmallow rainbow with his spoon, drowning it under the milk before letting it pop back up.

"I know, just—You know I don't have a lot of rules." His father rubs at his forehead like he's trying to diffuse a headache.

Stiles stands and goes over to the cupboard, grabbing a tea bag from the box and coffee cup from one shelf up. He fills the cup with water then pops it in the microwave. "You… You don't have rules for, y'know. Whatever that was."

"I feel like I should now."

"No one likes me, Dad. You won't have any use for the rule."

"He does."

Stiles looks up at his father, hearing the echo of how genuine the statement sounds, the look on his face confirming it. The teen fixes his father a cup of tea before retreating back to his room without his cereal, feeling like he's been hit by a bus.

* * *

Derek's full of unwanted energy. His leg jiggles while he tries to read and his fingers shake, tap on the counter top in his kitchen. He's tried taking a walk in the woods, idly following a path which he didn't realize he'd done until he was standing right where he'd almost sunken his teeth into Stiles' neck. He tells himself it's just the wolf wanting him to look for that kill again, but it's really because Stiles' dulling scent on the place is drawing him in.

He wanted to give Stiles the bite.

He hadn't because Stiles is still this delicate, innocent thing. Only thing in his life that is.

He hadn't wanted Stiles' help when he was bleeding in the last lesson. For the one reason that he didn't want to see Stiles with blood on his hands.

And last night, he'd had the desire to slip into the kid's bed and just lay there with him. He really thought about giving himself a black eye so he could show up on the Sheriff's doorstep and play Tyler, just to be back there, an inch away from being arrested if he touched Stiles the wrong way. But then Stiles would ask where he got it and he'd get mad because he wouldn't have a good explanation. But it doesn't matter, he didn't go.

He keeps his jacket and shoes on just in case he has another nightmare, though. And he does, but it isn't about Stiles. It's about Laura. She'd been at the edge of the woods and he ran out to see her. Then she started to scream. He could feel heat on his back and turned to see the house on fire, distant shouts of his mother, his father, his brothers. He saw Peter staggering from the wreckage and it infuriated him.

He wakes in a cold sweat and lifts himself from the bed, seeking refuge. He ducks into Laura's room and curls up in the closet again, whispering that he's sorry he made such a mess of her room before.

—

The next day, Stiles trudges up to Derek's house, knocking before showing himself in, "Derek?" He has some deep embarrassment about seeing the wolf today but it isn't enough to keep him from helping. When Derek doesn't suddenly appear and jump down the stairs or whatever he does to intimidate him, he feels worry strike and twist in his stomach. He checks the sitting room and kitchen, what's left of the dining room first.

Then he starts up the stairs. Checks the rooms he checked before in a row, cringing at the claw marred wood as he enters the room he'd first found Derek in. It looks the same as before and he's about to leave. Before he hears something shift. He momentarily shields himself but when there's no one pushing or attacking, he lowers his arms. The room is quiet and everything is visible. There's no where to hide, accept for the closet. He wishes to not find the almost overdosed lump of werewolf he found before and peers in.

It's completely different, despite the jump of his gut at seeing Derek. The older teen's asleep this time and he knows it by just the way he looks. Stiles kneels down and sets a hand on his arm, "Hey. Derek, wake up."

Derek shifts and sighs, rubs at one of his eyes and Stiles bites his lip. His eyes open, a tired blue-green and the younger teen smiles softly. "Hey. It's um, afternoon."

The wolf looks around for a moment and then back to Stiles. He nods stiffly, "Yeah. Thanks."

"N-No problem." He moves his hand from Derek's arm, accidentally bumping his knuckles on his inner thigh and watches him react, whole body going still for a moment. Blush fills out his cheeks and he backs away. He coughs softly, "I, uh. Lesson time."

Derek nods and pulls himself together, memories of dreaming in blood and rage swirling in his head. When Stiles moves toward the door, he grabs his arm and moves them towards Laura's clawed up bed. He sits himself down and looks up when Stiles doesn't follow suit. "I wanna stay in here."

"Oh. Well, alright. Sure." Stiles sits cautiously, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans. He either tends to wear too many layers around Derek, or Derek just makes him hot. He grimaces to himself, thinking about how that sounds. When he looks up, Derek's staring at him; deep, thoughtful, intense. He swallows and does the only thing he can think of. He opens his mouth. "Okay so the next lesson…" Derek's gaze lightens a bit. "Communication. You gotta tell me what happens when you start to change. We can figure out triggers and keep you more safe on full moons."

Derek manages not to roll his eyes, "Stiles, you can't put it down to a science, it's—"

"But I can try." The quirky teen cuts in instantly, doing an odd fidgeting thing that makes Derek want to hold him down. He sighs.

"Fine. Just… What do you want to know?"

Stiles leans back a little and digs his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small pad of paper and a pen. He takes the cap between his teeth and pulls, then sets the pen point to the paper. There's already writing on the page, which means Stiles has already thought about this. Derek reaches over and grabs the pen cap from the kid's mouth, dragging it slowly across his bottom lip as he pulls it away, just watching the give his lip makes, the fullness. Stiles stares up at him for a few moments before shaking himself out of it.

"U-Uh, okay… Yeah, um… What do you feel just before you shift?"

Derek makes the decision to be honest. He thinks about it for a moment before answering, "Usually agitation. Anger. Really strong emotions or feelings."

Stiles writes down every word and nods as he does so. His back is hunched uncomfortably and Derek sets a hand there, pressing against his spinal cord until he sits up correctly, little cracking noises being heard. Stiles grimaces at it but carries on.

"How do you feel when you shift?"

"It's painful… But a good pain. Almost like relief and pain. The-The wolf and the human… I can't really explain it that well." His hand is starting to feel along the fabric of Stiles' shirt. The kid always has to wear plaid, doesn't he? But it works for him, so it's fine. He wonders though, what he looks like in just t-shirts.

The younger teen nods regardless and writes the answer down, putting in parenthesis that it's like cracking your back, since that's the first thing his mind offers. Derek nods in agreement. Stiles relaxes a bit against his hand and asks the next question with a blush.

"Does it happen when you, uh… Y-You're in like, um… very close, to another person, n-naked situations?" He stammers and hates himself for it, but at least he gets it out. He doesn't dare peek up at Derek but he has a feeling what his expression will be. Hard, judging, maybe annoyed that he stuttered.

Derek truthfully doesn't look like that at all. He wonders if Stiles was actually still _that_ innocent. "Stiles…"

He answers too quick. "Yeah?"

"Are you still a—"

"What? No. Of course not. What are you talking about? …Huh?" He answers way too loud to be convincing, blush filling out his cheeks, getting deeper in color and his leg starting to jiggle nervously.

Derek chuckles. Actually, honestly, _chuckles_. He finds it amusing. Stiles wants to crawl in a hole and Derek feels it. So, instead of calling him out on it, he answers the question, "Yes, it can happen then, but I can control myself… Although, I haven't really screwed anyone since the upgrade."

Stiles shakily writes the answer down and turns the page on the pad, "D-Do you" He realizes Derek's rubbing his back; his palm slow and warm as it moves and it presses down a little ever so often, like it's guessing how many layers to skin there is. He manages not to shudder, "Do you think I'm helping with this?"

"Yes." The wolf tells him with a short nod. He lets his fingers slip down, to the edge of Stiles' plaid over shirt, lifting it up just slightly to touch to the t-shirt underneath. Stiles doesn't seem to notice. "With all of it."

The quirky teen nods, with a smile, and the pen scribbles across the paper again. Since Derek seems to be in a good mood, Stiles tries to be funny. He covers the next question on the paper and says instead, "Do you find me attractive?"

Derek's hand slips onto skin and Stiles' eyes widen. Derek's voice is laid back but serious, a tinge different, "You're cute. In a goofy way."

"You think I'm goofy?" Stiles squeaks, selective hearing grabbing only that part. He looks up at Derek defensively but tingles run up his spine from Derek's fingers gliding across his skin.

"A little. You have like, crazy legs and make odd noises." He shrugs, letting his thumb rub across a bit of Stiles' spinal cord, then his fingers trail up it slowly.

Stiles' leg starts jiggling again but he notices this time, and blushes when he realizes Derek's right. "Y-Yeah, okay."

The older teen smiles and leans in, "You gonna write that down?"

He nods, writing down 'goofy' at the top of the page. Derek's voice is a whisper, "But cute."

The color deepens on Stiles' cheeks and, for a moment, everything is wonderful. Derek feels _wonderful_, feels it himself and feels it rolling off Stiles in waves. The kid doesn't write the word down but he keeps letting Derek touch him, and the wolf counts that as a win.

"I, uh… T-There's a full moon coming up. We have to decide what to do with you."

"I'll stay here. I'll be fine." Stiles looks skeptical, of course, and he sighs, "No, seriously… No drugs, no passing out. Just… staying here."

"But, what if—"

"No, don't start in on the what if's. It'll be okay." He rubs his back, watching how easily he relaxes into it, "It'll be okay."

Stiles takes a moment or two, feeling Derek's hand gliding up and down his back before he nods, flippin his pad of paper closed. He smiles and reaches for the pen cap, which Derek has wrapped in his hand, settled on his thigh. "We'll just, I don't know, make sure you're calm and stuff."

"I feel pretty good now." He tells him, letting Stiles' fingers uncurl his own and grab the pen cap, swipe his palm with his fingertips.

"That's good." The younger teen says as he pops the cap back on the pen, feeling Derek's hand tracing the lower part of his spine. He bites his lip, "Y'know, it's gonna get cold tonight. You can… Come to dinner tonight. Sleep over."

"Stiles—"

"I know my Dad's not a fan, but it's gonna be cold tonight. You can even sleep on the couch if you want, you don't have to be in bed with me." He stutters out, then bites his lip again, harder this time, "Unless you want you lay in bed with me, then you can. I-I, you can, my blankets are really soft—Wait, you know that. Don't you? It's—"

"I could eat, yeah." Derek accepts his invitation. He wants to be around Stiles and even if he has to play a part, it's better than isolating himself in Laura's closet.

Stiles smiles and hops up, grabbing Derek's hand that was just up his shirt, "Then come on. I get to cook this awesome thing I found a recipe to in the back of the cupboard."

—

When they get to Stiles' house, the kid pulls him through the door, lets him sit in a chair at the kitchen table, "Dad, I'm back! I'm gonna make dinner!"

"Okay. Is it gonna be chicken again? Please don't say it's—" Sheriff Stilinski stops with his foot about to touch the floor to the kitchen, hand still on the rail of the stairs. Derek looks over at him from his place at the table. "Oh."

Stiles turns around from the cupboard, pot in his hand, "Um… I invited Tyler over." He gives a soft smile and then goes back to work, setting the pot in the sink and filling it up with water.

The Sheriff nods, steps into the kitchen, "Tyler."

"Sheriff Stilinski." Derek greets in the same way, sitting up straighter from where he's slouching. He watches Stiles' father go over and look over what his son's doing.

"What are you gonna make, kid?" He asks and Stiles taps the counter with his elbow before going back to washing his hands. The Sheriff picks up the card laying there, "…You're making your mom's recipe?"

Stiles freezes, looks tense. He looks over at the card in his father's hand. He gapes for a moment and then shakes himself out of it, "Uh, yeah. I-I guess."

Derek feels like he's intruding but both Stilinskis bury it away, Stiles' father setting the card back on the counter before heading into the living room, quiet "okay, good" being said. Stiles sighs and continues to prepare the meal, shedding his flannel and setting it on the back of a chair.

Oh, so that's what he looks like in just a t-shirt.

And _oh_, he has a sudden extreme urge to touch.

His fingers twitch and he just wants to so badly. He gets up, can feel the sadness radiating from the kid's body. It hits him in his chest and he connects his hands with Stiles' back. He watches him jump a little - he's really quiet on these floors - but relax into it after a moment.

Derek slowly rubs his hands down his back, shoulder blades to the beginning of his jeans, before moving back up, thumb of his right hand gliding up his spine. Stiles' muscles move under his skin, under the fabric when he reaches up and grabs things from shelves. A sliver of skin gets exposed when he reaches for an ingredient on the top shelf and he moves his other hand to pull his shirt back down, but Derek's hand is already there, coming around so he can rest his hand on it. It momentarily stills him, thinking maybe this is Derek playing Tyler, so he can't let it seem weird.

He lets him touch. When he steps, Derek steps. When he moves, Derek touches. Soon, Stiles knows his father's eyes are on them and he's close to a panic attack, emotions of the day mixing up his stomach to create something so unsettling. Derek gently pulls him back into him, arm wrapping around his middle while the hand on his skin stays firm, holds him.

The spoon he's holding drops and it's one of those moments he can't hold in. He remembers that his mother's made this before now. He can smell everything cooking and it's like a knife to the chest because it's so familiar. He's half expecting for his mother to come down the stairs singing and smelling of her favorite perfume - they've even still got it in the house, didn't dare get rid of the elegant little bottle.

He needs to sit down but doesn't think he'll make it to the chairs. This was supposed to be a good night, Derek here again and him making a nice dinner for all three of them. He sets his hands against the counter and takes in a breath. Derek holds him tighter - keeps him upright - and leans into his ear, "It's okay."

_Oh. Oh, no._ Stiles has the urge to turn into him, press his face against his chest and cry. But he won't. He nods, packs another box of feelings and tapes it up, pushes it into the far, dimly lit corners of his heart and hopes it'll fade away.

He's surprised but welcomes it when Derek nuzzles his neck, distracts him a bit. He didn't know the older teen could be so touchy-feely with anyone but today's proven it. It's mildly inappropriate, he knows that, and Derek must know that, too. "You want me to go sit down?"

He nods again, gets out a small "Yeah" and Derek nods as well. He feels lips press to his neck and then it's all being taken away; the hands, the warmth, the support. _It's okay_, he tells himself, glances over to see his father looking at him with tired eyes. _Everything's okay_. He forces a small smile and then goes back to cooking. He will make this taste good for them.

—

He pushes himself to make he night better, talking up a storm while he sets up the plates, puts them on the table. While they eat, he makes his father talk about work and when that's done with, Derek - bless him please because really - offers up some cute, fake stories about hishusky mix dog named Derek. It takes a lot of smiling - and some pasta falling in his lap - to make his Dad actually smile. Derek holds Stiles' hand under the table.

When dinner's done with, Stiles puts the plates in the sink and promises he'll do them tomorrow. He feels a little wiped out and says goodnight to his Dad, who looks up from case files and beckons him over for a hug. They both cling a little and the Sheriff doesn't say anything about "Tyler" being back in the house, which Stiles is thankful for.

Derek leads him up the stairs, pushes him toward the bathroom, "Go take a shower."

Stiles doesn't fight with him. He goes in, takes a shower, lets a few tears fall. He makes sure he's washed and calm by the time he gets out, brushes his teeth and then heads into his room with a towel around his hips.

He peeks his head in first and Derek isn't looking at him, so he slips in and goes over to his drawers, just grabs something out and gets it on quick. He wonders if he should wear shorts, along with his underwear and shirt to bed, but decides against it. He wants to be cool and comfortable. Derek's already laying in his bed and he goes over, switches off the lamp so only the dim hallway light is what they have.

Maybe it's a little awkward but he climbs in, gets under the blankets he's sharing and Derek turns on his side, looks at him. He pulls the blankets up to his chest and looks over, "What?"

"Dinner was really good. Thank you." He says and then he's scooting closer, arm slipping around Stiles' middle, moving his shirt out of the way so he's touching skin again.

Stiles bites his lip and nods, lets Derek nuzzle in by his throat and finds he really, really likes it. The wolf's breath is warm against him and so is his body. He can hear his Dad coming up the stairs and doesn't think twice before he puts an arm around Derek, fingers going into his hair.

"And you were right, the blankets are comfortable." The older teen says quietly, shifts closer and _Christ,_ Stiles thinks,_ is that his leg bumping mine?_ Derek's not wearing pants, either. He moves his leg so it's overlapping one of the quirky teen's, smiles the way he does when using Tyler as some of the light from the hall gets blocked by the Sheriff's head. _Real stealthy, Sheriff Stilinski_. "It's really nice that you'd do this for me again. So caring."

"Well, thanks." Stiles doesn't know how to play this after all. He probably looks so uncomfortable and inexperienced, Derek playing loving… whatever, and he's just… Awkward. He's not used to it. Derek chuckles, pretends like he doesn't see or hear or smell Stiles' father and leans up, presses a kiss to the kid's jaw.

Goosebumps rise to Stiles' skin and he lets out a soft laugh, turns into him a little so his face is by Derek's hair. He can feel the wolf breathing on his collarbone. His Dad's not-so-spy-like footsteps pad off into his own room and Stiles sighs, relaxes.

"You really gotta play up that we're together, don't you?" He says when his father's door shuts. He can feel Derek shrug but other than that, he doesn't move. "…And you're not gonna move, are you?"

"You want me to?" He asks, inhales the other teen's scent and lets his thumb glide against his skin. There's some kind of emotion brewing just under the surface and Derek grins, because _no, he doesn't want me to_.

"Don't let me catch you putting your hand down my pants because you thought my Dad was suspicious of me liking you." Stiles whispers and closes his eyes. He makes a noise and his hand flies down when the older teen's starts to slip to the waistband of his boxers. Derek stifles a laugh against his skin. He huffs, "Night, Derek."

He gets no more words, just Derek's hand sliding back up to where it was, fingers trapping Stiles' thumb into staying with him.

Derek doesn't have any nightmares.

Neither does Stiles.


	8. Too Close

Summary: Stiles knows it's not Derek just playing Tyler. It's too close to the full moon for him to be thinking straight.

_(Note: Evidently the site ate chapter eight, so here it is again.)_

* * *

Stiles is comfortable. So, so comfortable. He doesn't even want to move because he's so comfortable. He's warm and his pillows are so soft. He can not get up today, right? He can just laze in bed, think of what his next move with Derek will be. He sighs and shifts, feels his blankets tighten around him.

_Wait._

Those aren't blankets. He opens his eyes and they instantly widen, finding he's not on his mattress. Well, he _is_, but what's between him and the mattress is… Derek. Shit, he's laying _on top_ of Derek. The wolf rubs his back slowly, keeps his eyes closed and mutters, "Heartbeat."

It's fast, truthfully. He's getting over the surprise - and a bit of embarrassment because it's the _morning_, and he can feel himself pressing up against Derek's thigh. The older teen shifts, gets comfortable and Stiles bites down on his lip, feels Derek's own length slide up against his through layers that are so, so thin right now.

"H-How did I get like this?" He asks because really, would he have climbed Derek in his sleep?

The wolf shrugs, moves one hand up to the back of Stiles' head and eases it down again, where it was resting on his chest while he was sleeping. Stiles sighs but doesn't move his head back up. Derek runs a hand over the short strands of his hair, "You toss and turn in your sleep. I held onto you. This is how we ended up."

"Oh." Is all he has in return, peeks up at him. He's got a good view of Derek's throat. It comes into his mind that on his own neck, Derek has touched him there, kissed him there. God, he comforted him, too. Was this still comforting? Does he get to comfort back? He swallows and Derek's eyebrows furrow, probably hearing his heart speed up slightly. He goes to open his mouth and say something but Stiles leans up, breath hitches against his neck as their laps grind.

He watches Derek swallow, tilt his head back just so and Stiles wets his lips, leans closer so his nose bumps Derek's skin. He whispers, just so he doesn't sound loud to the wolf's ears, "That… That's real nice of you, since you didn't like, push me out of the bed."

The older teen's arms tighten around his waist, pushing them closer together. He whispers too, "I wouldn't."

"That's good to know." His breath ghosts over Derek's neck and the wolf turns his head a bit more to the side, inviting him. Stiles gets it, presses his lips to his neck. He can feel the other's hands slip up under his shirt and he pulls away slightly, then goes back in, pressing another where the beginning of rough stubble is.

Derek's hands are moving up his back, the rise and fall of his chest coming quicker as Stiles trails open-mouthed kisses up his neck, along the tendon. Derek can't help - really he can't, he should be able to control himself but he just _can't_ - when he rolls his hips up, listens to the quiet gasp and spike in heart rate.

Stiles is fully hard and throbbing in his underwear, warmth and pressure and now friction - _holy shit_. Derek's sort of the best thing ever right now, even if he doesn't know why he's doing it. He plants leisurely kisses, for whatever reason getting bold and flicking the tip of his tongue against his skin. Derek actually bucks up against him, digging his fingers against his skin and Stiles moans softly, stopping himself and holding the rest of it back, squeezing his eyes shut.

He can feel Derek's pulse thumping quick under his skin when he touches his lips to him again and the wolf's hands slip down, to his hips and grip, grinding them together. He shudders, holds tight to Derek's shirt at the shoulders, hisses and moans brokenly. "O-Oh, God. Okay."

Derek _growls_ at him, at his voice, breathes out hard as he works them together. The smell of Stiles is amazing when he's like this, all worked up. So is his voice, surprised and doused in hormones. Fuck, he can just about taste them. He digs harder into his hips and the kid sputters, breath hitches as his hips buck without his full permission.

"Derek, D-Derek. Okay._ Shit_. Oh-Okay." He whimpers and pulls himself up, breathing labored and so, so hard. He bites his lip, then licks over them, body tingling, "I-I… It." He groans softly, shakily wiggles himself off the bed, "Just gonna… G-Go to the bathroom. Brush teeth, shower."

He can't help seeing the way Derek's bulging in his boxers or how his claws have now slipped out and his eyes are _just_ almost red and that makes Stiles twitch. He trips over himself a bit as he crosses the hall and shuts himself in the bathroom, body thrumming.

"_Christ_, what the hell was that?" He takes a deep breath, bites his lip before beginning to shed his clothes. He wants to think but he wants to come more. He ignores that he knows Derek could be listening while he jerks off in the shower, bites his knuckles hard to keep from saying anything big, stupid, _fantastic_ Alpha related when he comes all over his fist.

When he gets back into his room, Derek's eyes are on him this time and he knows Derek knows what he did. He's sure his blush fills out his entire fucking body and he bites his lip, gives a little wave. The wolf looks smug for a second, wetting his lips before he waves back.

"Um. You can take a shower if you want." He says, tries not to nervously lick his lips. Derek might jump him.

The wolf nods, gets up from the bed and he's still hard - damn it Stiles had that _against him_ - and he heads for the door, grazing Stiles' neck with his fingers before leaving the room.

Stiles shudders and with trembling fingers he rifles through his drawers to find something, mind preoccupied with how he's getting hard again. He pulls on clothes though, silently tells his erection that hey, clothes are going on and that's that, then flops back into bed on his stomach, pulling his book bag close to dig one out. He pushes the sandy-tan sleeve of his shirt up, feeling like it's too big for him but won't go and change, taking off clothes isn't going to happen right now. He opens the - oh, more shit about werewolves - book and starts up where he left off.

He gets lost in the book, like he does quite often, thinking of how, oh yeah, that's happened, or that part is bullshit, or that part could happen. He reaches back into his bag for his notes on yesterday, flips open the little pad to mix and match and try to get information.

Maybe he should go to the library today. Tug Derek along… No, no tugging of Derek's anything. It… _Shit, why'd I pick jeans?_ But he could bring Derek along, no rummaging through books with the librarian looking at him like a crazy person when there's a werewolf right there, bored and with nothing to do.

He sighs, lets his head drop onto the pages and tries to think. During the full moon, Scott got irritable, violent, more in tune with his wolf senses. Derek's is going to be ramped up even more. He groans, dreading it even though he has to be there.

Hands on his sides startle him, pushing his shirt up so they can feel his skin. He can feel breathing by his ear and he bites his lip, "Derek?"

"Mm." The wolf nuzzles by his hair, tip of his nose tracing down behind his ear. Stiles is like a fucking magnet, drawing him in every time he's around. And shit, the wolf inside is pacing, making his pulse quicken. It's like Stiles is flaunting himself. He's laying in bed, in the place where he was laying, shirt - _Derek's old shirt, holy mothfucking god_ - slipping up and showing a sliver of his lower back.

Stiles feels Derek's tongue right against the sensitive skin under his ear and he shivers, reaches up and urges him away, "Goddammit. What are you trying to do?" He turns, sees Derek wearing only a towel that's hanging so, so low on his hips, skin still damp from his shower. Stiles should not have just looked at his crotch.

"What are _you_ doing?" Derek gives back because really, he can't control himself anymore. It's like it's just not an option. He can feel his wolf stirring and he should be running, should be telling Stiles to run but he wants him close, just really really _wants_.

"What am I…? Dude! I was just reading and thinking about how you'd react on a full moon and…. You're acting like… Holy shit." It clicks. Scott did the same thing, to a lesser degree, close to a full moon. He made out with Lydia before the full moon, and now it's one day, _one goddamn day_ before the full moon and Derek's trying to do the same thing to him. "Oh Jesus, Derek." He rubs a hand over his face, "Get dressed. Just—Just get some clothes on. I know what's going on."

"But—" Derek starts and he's reaching out again, just _needing_ him.

"Get dressed!" Stiles snaps at him, surprised when Derek obediently does what he's told. He feels like Derek shows off, takes his time while getting dressed and Stiles _does not look_. Fuck, okay, maybe he looks just a little.

* * *

He pulls Derek by the arm, avoids the frequent touches Derek tries to make as he brings them around the side of Derek's house. He's trying to find a good place to set up, to stay while the older teen has his full moon-ed freak out.

"You should be chained up, like I did with Scott. We'll just—_Derek_." The wolf has taken a hold of his hips again, dipping his fingers in past the waistband of his jeans. Derek retracts, like a sad puppy, and his hands hover for a moment before going back to his sides. "Thank you. We'll make sure you're all secure and then I'll leave to—"

"No, don't leave." Derek says instantly, reaches out to touch him with an almost overwhelming want.

"I'm not going to leave, I'm just going to—"

He's being pressed against a tree trunk, spread legs and Derek _right there_. The wolf is nuzzling at his skin, fucking _purring_, pushing the fabric of his shirt out of the way to show his collarbone and shoulder. "Please don't leave, please don't leave. I'm sorry. I can't help it."

Stiles sighs, wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders and just lets him touch. "I know you can't. Don't worry, It's okay."

Yes, he definitely gets to comfort back.

Even if they're both screwed.


	9. Go

Summary: "Don't you dare do that to me!".

* * *

This is getting out of hand.

Stiles has been backed into things too many times today, throat covered in kisses and soft bites and there have been claws digging into his hips, moving up and lightly tracing along his back. A pelvis pressing to his and growls into his ears.

It's not Derek's fault. He_ gets_ that. It's the fast approaching full moon. But _holy God_, it's testing Stiles' sanity.

Derek tries to keep it as under control as he can when Stiles' father is around - thank god - but once the Sheriff is gone he's is pushing Stiles against whatever surface, this time up on the kitchen counter, and licking at his collarbones. Stiles knows the routine and quickly threads his hands into Derek's hair, wraps his legs around him.

"Derek, you gotta stop." He whispers, feels himself be pressed harder against the cabinets.

"I know." The wolf growls out but he doesn't, just nips along Stiles' jaw while his hands trail up his inner thighs. He can fucking taste how hormonal he is from this, from all the times he's done this today, it's like an addiction. It's the full moon, it's his wolf seeking out a mate, and Stiles knows. _And he still lets him do it_. It's insane.

"Derek," Stiles tilts his head back, just knows he's starting to get more aggressive. Derek's claws have grown out, so close to puncturing the denim of his jeans and then his skin.

"Derek," It has more warning to it but the older teen doesn't listen, starts to undo his pants. It's the first time he's done that. There's a low growling happening in the back of Derek's throat and Stiles makes himself sit up more, maybe to make his point clear.

When he pulls away he sees that Derek's fangs are out and his eyes widen. He tugs hard at his hair and the wolf snarls, hands bunching to fists, claws digging into the waistband of Stiles' underwear, creating holes in the fabric. He leans in and breathes into Stiles' face with a menacing look, and _fucking shit_, this is way to close, way too much of the wolf being let out here. _Here_. In Stiles' kitchen. And his father is home. Right in the other room.

Stiles doesn't know why he does it - okay maybe he does but that's his answer if he's asked - but he growls back, yanks Derek's hair and fucking bites him. On the _ear_. The older teen whimpers, falls submissively to his knees and Stiles is going with him, falling on top of him and scrambling to get up because—

"Stiles, what the hell is going on?" His father's there in an instant, face hard when he sees that yes, they're on the floor of the kitchen and Stiles' jeans are undone. "_What the hell is this?_"

"Dad! Blood pressure!" Stiles yelps and staggers up, helps Derek up and pushes him toward the stairs, "Go! Go!" He quickly moves to pull out a chair and get his father to sit down, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't what it looked like, I'm so sorry."

"Stiles." He's angry. God, Stiles understands, he really does. The kid trips over himself in getting him a glass of water, telling him to breathe. He sighs and takes the glass, takes a sip just to make his son happy. "What… I—I do need a rule for _that_, then, don't I? God, Stiles. In the kitchen. Really?"

Stiles checks his pulse in his wrist and rubs a hand over his own face. He's red with embarrassment and he's probably pale with terror - he probably looks like he's been punched in the stomach too - because he's feeling pretty sick right now. "Dad…" He starts, but doesn't know what to do, what to say. He doesn't know what to _think_. "I-I'm sorry."

The Sheriff tries to calm down. He really does. He really wants to get his gun and threaten Tyler, make him promise to never do anything like that to his little boy again, but he tells himself he won't. Stiles looks like he's about to cry, head hanging shamefully and his hand is shaking on his wrist. He sighs and sets the glass on the table, hauls his son up into his arms.

"Calm down, kid. Shh, shh." He holds him tight, rubs his back, "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you."

"Dad, I'm sorry." Stiles makes sure he doesn't stutter, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn't want to cry.

"It's okay, Stiles. Come on, get up. Get off the floor." The teen picks himself up, goes to redo his jeans but the button's broken from Derek's wolf strength.

The Sheriff sighs, "I freaked out because your button broke… You two fell didn't you? I told you I washed the floor and it could still be wet. God, kiddo, I'm sorry."

Stiles looks at him dumbfounded. He's about to shake his head, to say that it's still his fault and he's so, so sorry, when his Dad stands and pulls him into another hug. "Dad—"

"You're growing up. I can't stop you from growing up and going out and having a relationship. I just get protective sometimes." He lets go, pats his son on the shoulders, "Why don't you go upstairs and get some new pants on, and I'll order something for dinner, okay?"

"Do not tell them it's okay to put salt on it." Is Stiles' automatic response. He knows that all the diners and places around town know not to give his father things like bacon and other salty foods, but he still says it.

His father chuckles softly, "I know, kid. I promise. Now, go."

Stiles forces a smile to let his Dad know he's okay, then moves for the stairs. He can see rain starting to fall through the window at the top of the stairs and he heads into his bedroom, taking a deep breath, "Look, I know that—"

His bedroom's empty.

"Derek?" He looks around, behind the door and across the hall to the bathroom, but the wolf's no where to be found. He can hear wind whistling and looks over to his window, sees it cracked open, "Oh,_ shit_."

He's running back down the stairs and tripping to get his shoes on in an instant. His father's looking at him with wide eyes, "Stiles, what's wrong?"

"He's gone!" He says without thinking, shoving his shoelaces into his shoes because he doesn't want to waste time in tying them.

"Tyler? Well, how did he—?"

"The window! I should have know he wouldn't stay! Ugh, I told him to go. Damn it, Derek, I didn't mean actually _go_." He's grabbing his keys and running out the door, climbing into his Jeep and heading off fast.

* * *

"Derek! Derek!" Stiles jumps out of his car, running into the clearing of the Hale house. It's pouring down rain now, soaking Stiles' clothes and he can see Derek's clothes are too, light blue t-shirt now clinging and dark. The older teen's letting out his frustrations on his house, breaking more of the side wall with his fists. "What are you doing?"

"Get away from me!" Derek shouts at him, fist goes through the wall like it's nothing. When the younger teen gets closer, he starts to walk away, putting distance between them.

Stiles jogs to follow, grabbing a hold of his arm, "Haven't you already seen that I'm not going anywhere? Derek, look at me!"

The older teen turns, pulls away from him, "I can't control myself around you! I can't fucking help it! Didn't I tell you not to care?"

"I'm not giving up on you! Damn it, Derek." He moves it closer, slipping his hand around his wrist, "I'm not going anywhere."

Derek looks like he wants to touch back, _so badly_ for a moment, before his face hardens and he slaps Stiles' hand away, "Then you're stupid for doing this. I don't need your help!"

"Yes, you do!" Derek's already walking away again and he runs, jumps onto his back, "You need me!"

He hears a growl and one of the wolf's hands come up, grabs him and pulls him over his shoulder, making him land with a hard thump to the ground. Derek's there, on top of him, face shifted. The roar flips Stiles' stomach, shocks his heart in a horrible way. He's so full of adrenaline, so full of emotion that he screams at him, "Don't you dare do that to me!"

Derek snarls and his eyes flare up. His hands dig into Stiles' shoulders, claws just breaking the skin. God, he's _so angry_ at him. Why does he even care? Why does this kid care about him at all? He shouldn't. And he's so frustrated, human and wolf battling inside his rib cage, emotion fueling the fire. It's a fucking war inside him and Stiles is just making it worse, his senses drinking in all that this kid is and it's too much.

Stiles whimpers, feels the sharp sting and burn from his shoulders as he slowly lifts his hands, sets them on either side of Derek's neck. He just touches there, traces down the path that he kissed this morning and something happens to Derek, he just knows something's happened because even if his eyes are glowing, they soften. "Please," He whispers, "No matter how much you push me away, I'm not gonna stop helping you. Get that through your thick fucking skull already."

Derek growls, but it's in defeat, and drops his head to Stiles' chest like his first lesson, taking a moment to come back to himself - Stiles sighs in relief when his claws are just fingers again - before he gets out a strangled, "Why?"

"Because I love stupid animals." Derek looks up at him, something between broken and out of breath, and he sighs, "I _care_ about you. Do you think I'd let you ride up on my dick if I didn't?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't—"

"I know." He sits up, soaked and cold to the bone and wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders, "It's okay. Come on, let me take you home."

"Your Dad—"

"Will be fine. Now, come on." He gets up shakily - maybe Derek's roar scared him, shut up - keeping his hand on Derek's arm as he leads him over to his Jeep.

When they get back to Stiles' house, there's two police cruisers in the driveway.


	10. Dry House, Wet Clothes

Summary: Wolf, cowering with guilt. Human, seeking comfort and forgiveness. Stiles, with his heart set.

Note: In the last chapter, did anyone notice that Stiles called Derek by his real name to the Sheriff?

* * *

Stiles pulls Derek through the door, both of them soaked and shaking.

"No, no. They just came through the door. Mhmm. Yeah, thanks." The Sheriff hangs up the phone and him and Peterson, one of his deputies, come to assess both of them.

"Where were you? Where did you go?" Sheriff Stilinski asks urgently, setting a hand on his shoulder. Stiles flinches away with a hiss and when he brings his hand away, there's red staining his hand, "Are you bleeding?"

"Uh, maybe." The younger teen brushes it off, going to lead Derek up the stairs. They're stopped by the deputy, who gives Derek a long look that makes Stiles' heart pound, hoping to God that he doesn't recognize him.

"What happened?" His father's following after them, rolling up his t-shirt's sleeve to look. Stiles flinches away again. "Damn it, Stiles. Lemme see."

"No, Dad. I got it. I-I'm fine." He promises and pushes past the deputy, hauling Derek upstairs. Derek hangs his head, the blip in the kid's heartbeat when he says he's fine making him feel terrible.

"Stiles, I sent out patrol to look for you. I was worried. Stiles, I'm _worried_." The Sheriff says from the bottom of the stairs, making Stiles tense.

Everything's still for a moment, before the younger teen sighs and looks down at his father. His voice is soft, sad, "Please, Dad. Can we just talk about this later?"

After a moment, his father nods, "Yeah, okay. I'm glad you're okay."

Stiles pulls his gaze away and leads the older teen into his room, tripping a bit on his rug. It's just getting to him that his body hurts like hell, being thrown on the ground - and into all the other various things throughout the day - and claws being embedded into his shoulders. Yeah, he's feeling kinda really _horribly_ sore.

He grunts when he's picked up, muscles protesting and he grips to Derek as he's carried to the bathroom, being set on the counter with care. He's freezing and all he wants to do is lay in bed, block everything out and forget the whole world. He's too tired, too stressed.

Derek's hands are at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and it stings in his shoulders when he lifts his arms, allows him to rid him of the soaked fabric. The older teen throws it into the hamper before shedding his own, letting it follow Stiles'. The kid's shaking and Derek moves to the shower, turns the water on hot before spreading Stiles' legs so he can get to the cabinet under the sink.

Stiles is lost in his thoughts. What is he going to say to his father? What is he going to say to get the deputy to leave? What is he going to do about Derek and the full moon? When is he going to have time to go into shock about everything he wants to? There isn't enough time for all of this. There isn't enough time for anything and this is way too much for him to handle.

There's a hand touching his face and he comes back to himself, didn't even realize he'd started to cry. He viciously wipes them away, sniffling and cursing lowly at himself. Derek takes his wrists gently, eases them away from his face. He's close again and Stiles goes to instinctively wrap his legs around Derek's hips, but the wolf stops him with gentle hands on his thighs.

Derek leans in and sets their foreheads together, searching his eyes while his thumbs rub without thinking back and forth on his thighs. The steam of the shower is heating up the room and he glances at Stiles' lips for a moment before moving, nuzzling at his cheek and then pulling himself away. Stiles is still hurt - _because of you_, his mind mocks - and he's going to be the one to clean him up.

Stiles doesn't object, just sits quietly, hissing when Derek uses peroxide. The older teen nuzzles him again, scratch of thick stubble against his cheek and his nose by his ear. Derek cleans the cuts out, seeing how disconnected Stiles looks, eyes blank while he thinks. He wants to leave all over again, hope this kid will forget about him.

But he won't. Because he knows Stiles won't give up. _Because he knows Stiles_.

When he's done, he sets down the bloody cloth and puts waterproof bandages over each cut, saves the real bandaging for after Stiles showers. He takes his face in his hands and tilts his head up, rubs his thumbs against his cheekbones, "Go take a shower."

"But what about—"

"You're stressed. Shower. Be careful."

Stiles stares for a few moments, then nods, easing off the counter. Derek backs away and lets him be alone, leaves the bathroom door cracked open before he sheds his own clothes, puts them in the other hamper and gets redressed.

He hears Stiles' heart pick up as he starts to cry in the shower and he hangs his head, hates that he has to cry. He makes sure he's presentable even if he's freezing cold and goes slowly down the stairs, into the living room where the Sheriff and Deputy are. They look up from where they're speaking hushed in the middle of the room and Derek wants to cower away, Stiles' vulnerability upstairs the thing at the front of his mind.

He speaks to the Sheriff, voice truly worn out and quiet, "None of this has been Stiles' fault… Your son is a very good person for taking me in, helping me. But I see that I don't belong here, with him. I'm sorry I was weak… I'm not right." The Deputy looks like he recognizes him now, "You can arrest me now, just tell him I left. Tell him to be safe."

The words taste sour in his mouth. He wants so badly to stay and protect Stiles, to keep him close. But he's hurt him, made him bleed. It's not something he'll ever be able to forget. Or forgive. The Deputy takes out his handcuffs, starts toward him but the Sheriff keeps looking at him, like he's trying to figure something out.

The Deputy grabs his wrist to pull it forward but the Sheriff shakes his head, "Stop."

He walks up to them, puts his hand on his Deputy's wrist, "Peterson… That's not gonna be necessary." He looks to Derek, "You don't want to go, because you like him. Yet you're spouting this crap, and you still tell me to tell him to be safe. Why would you do that?"

"…Because I'm not worthy of him. I can't have what I want just because I want it." Derek tries to sound strong, but he can't. It's just not there.

The Sheriff sighs, claps a hand on the teen's shoulder, "You can cook, right?"

"Uh."

"Good, go make dinner."

He shoves Derek a little, as incentive, and the wolf thinks he understands. He moves into the kitchen and starts going through the cupboards as he listens to Stiles' father tell Peterson he can go home, that he'll handle it.

Upstairs, Stiles is sobbing and Derek wants to go comfort him, protect him. It's pulling at his sanity but he keeps himself in the kitchen, prepares to make mac n cheese. He doesn't make eye contact as the Sheriff walks Peterson over to the door and then out it.

"Where's Stiles?" He asks, leaning against the door.

"Shower." Derek can hear the younger teen calming down, sobs subsiding, sniffles in their place. His chest aches for him.

"Is he okay?"

"I cleaned the cuts… I'm going to bandage them with gauze after he's dry."

"What happened to him? I mean, how did he get them?"

"A stupid animal."

The water to the shower shuts off, and Stiles moves into his room. Derek can hear the opening slide of his drawers as he finds clothes, the pat of the towel against his damp skin, the shuffle of fabric as he slips his clothes on. His heart is still fast and Derek starts for the stairs, hand on the rail when he stops, looks back to Stiles' father.

"Thank you." He says sincerely, getting a short nod.

"I'm not done with you." The Sheriff warns in a soft voice and it's Derek's turn to nod.

He goes up the stairs after, carefully peeking opening Stiles' bedroom door to see. The kid's looking at his cuts, all irritated by the hot water - _wow Derek that hot shower was such a good idea_ - but he's not shivering anymore so he's thankful for that. He slips in the room and Stiles looks up, going to grab his shirt.

His heart's beating faster now and his eyes are red and puffy. His face is pale and he just looks so worn out, cried out and tired. Derek's wolf whines for him and Derek's crossing the space that separates them, holding either side of Stiles' face and leaning in. He's kissing both of his eyes when they close, the bridge of his nose where the barely-there freckles are dusted onto his skin, to his cheeks and forehead and chin.

He skips his lips.

He brings him in for a hug and Stiles clings even if it hurts. Derek's wolf cowers because he hurt Stiles - _they hurt Stiles_ - but Derek knows the younger teen needs comfort. He runs his hand over his hair and sighs, holds him to his chest for a few more moments before he pulls away.

"Let's bandage you up, okay?" All he gets is a nod - he wants to hear Stiles' voice but it's probably broken and rough, so he doesn't ask - and leads him back into the bathroom, lifts him onto the counter without thinking. He takes the things he needs from the cupboard under the sink and has Stiles relax before he patches him up.

Hurting Stiles has scared his wolf. It's cowering far away, _knowing_ it's done something wrong, so preoccupied with the sorrow of hurting the kid that it's not fully realizing the moon will be whole in less than twenty-four hours. Derek doesn't think about it, trains everything on Stiles because even if it makes him feel horrible, he's human. He'll almost think about it, knows his wolf sees it, but it won't do anything. It makes him wonder, but Stiles starts speaking and that's got his full attention.

"Where did you go?" His voice is broken and Derek dips down before he can stop himself, placing a kiss to his sore throat. Stiles' hand touches briefly to his chest before it falls again, "Where did you go when I was in the shower?"

"Downstairs." He says softly, wrapping the gauze around his shoulder, under his arm and around again. He'll bandage him up all the way because Stiles turns a lot in his sleep and he doesn't want it coming off, especially with the medicine he's applying along with it.

Stiles' heart picks up, voice distressed, "You went _downstairs_? But—"

"Shh." Derek nuzzles his cheek, down his jaw and by his throat. He stays there until Stiles' heart calms, evens out. "It's okay," He whispers into his collarbone, "It's going to be okay."

The younger teen nods and Derek does as well, presses his cheek against his cheek before he finishes up with the bandages, leaves him for a moment to get his shirt - a bigger one. It's one meant for Derek that Stiles picked out for himself. He grips it in his fist as his chest aches again - then comes back and helps him slip it on gingerly.

"Thank you." Stiles whispers but Derek shakes his head, helps him down from the counter.

"Don't thank me." He says shortly, very end-of-discussion. He takes his hand and leads him downstairs, where the water is boiling on the stove. He lets him go and returns to making dinner, a little more at ease now that Stiles - even if not okay - isn't crying and is in his sight.

"Hey, kid." Stiles' father appears from the living room, talking softly. "How you feeling?"

"Okay." The younger teen says, monotone voice. Derek can hear his heart blip, but only just, like he doesn't know. The Sheriff gestures to the living room and Stiles goes, sits on the couch.

His father paces in front of him, stops, looks at him like he wants to say something, and then paces again. Stiles watches him, fiddles with his hands. The Sheriff rubs his forehead, pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He might as well just say it, and he does. Quietly though, if not to frighten his child, "You called him Derek."

Stiles tenses, shoulders stinging. He gapes for a moment, realizing that yes, he did call Derek by his actual name, but he hadn't been thinking of anything but the guy's safety at the time. It just sort of slipped out. "I-I…"

"I thought he looked familiar. Peterson _knew_ he looked familiar… That's Derek Hale in there, isn't it?" He asks, sees his son's hands start to shake again. He kneels down and takes them in his own, "Stiles."

"Y-You gonna take him away?"

"No, he's making dinner."

"_Dad_." Stiles whines, his voice cracks and it hurts his throat. He doesn't want to joke right now, especially with Derek's place of staying.

"It's okay, kiddo. I won't make him go anywhere." He pats his son's hands, "Little pissed that you lied to me, though."

"I had to help him. You-You don't completely understand, but I have to—"

"Stiles, I know better than to try and steer you away from something that you've got your heart set on… I just didn't think your heart would be set on Derek Hale."

"Well, it is." Stiles tells him, then realizes what his father's said, what he's just agreed with. He's got his heart set on Derek. He's got his _heart_ set on_ Derek._ That… That's okay.

His father nods, "I know, kid. I know." He stands, lets go of his hands, "You and him both are so lucky he's innocent, because I would have shot him."

Derek peeks in the room, and Stiles just smiles, not about to soothe and say that _no_, his father wouldn't do that, especially not to someone he's got his heart set on.

—

Stiles gets as comfortable as he can in bed. He feels so warm even if the rain is still falling hard outside, all curled in blankets and Derek sliding in so very carefully next to him. He rolls his eyes and takes his arm, drapes it over his middle and pulls him closer. Derek grunts at him but settles in, hand sliding up under the fabric of his shirt to touch his side.

They're silent for the longest time, and then Derek whispers, "You bit me on the ear."

Stiles' lips upturn a little, "Yeah, well… That's what you're supposed to do with a problematic dog."

"Problematic dog?" Derek rubs his thumb against the younger teen's skin, happy to know he's warm and content now.

"Okay. Problematic Alpha puppy." Derek whines and Stiles laughs softly, looks up at him in the dim light the hallway's providing yet again. His chuckles subside after a few moments though, thinking about how closely Derek's watching him. "Are you okay?"

"No." The wolf whispers truthfully, tracing as much of Stiles' hipbone as is showing, as much as he's allowed to.

"You didn't do it on purpose. Your wolf is—"

"Is cowering and whimpering. It's scared for me to be touching you. It knows how much of a monster it's been." Derek confesses shamefully, "I'm just so sorry. But I know that's not enough."

"It is enough." Stiles promises. His hand goes to his underwear's waistband, pulls the fabric down over his hipbone, lets Derek touch only because he wants him to.

"It's such a conflict here. Wolf, human and Stiles." He says, traces on his skin slowly. He knows he's looking at him and he meets those round brown eyes. He can feel the pulse point on Stiles' hip, thumping up against the skin stretched tight over the bone. It's quickening for some reason and Stiles' hand comes up, but he takes his wrist, tries to ease it back down, "Don't move."

"Come here." The younger teen tells him, laying his arm back down on his chest. Derek's already here, he doesn't know what 'here' could mean to Stiles. "Come here." He beckons him with his fingers, urging him closer.

Derek leans over him slightly, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Stiles raises his hand again, lightly digs his fingertips in where Derek's stubble is, "The wolf is a part of you, don't cast it out just because it couldn't control itself. You're Derek. _Derek_ and Stiles."

And that's when he leans up, pulls Derek down and gently slides their lips together. It's simple and inexperienced on Stiles' part, but it doesn't matter. Derek's wolf peeks up, ears perk up because Stiles is giving him something that means happiness, forgiveness. Derek holds his hip, presses his palm lightly against the bone as his fingers wrap around and he moves his lips gently, slowly, like he's not the scared animal in this scenario.

Stiles doesn't listen and reaches his other arm up, ignores the pain he gets from his shoulders and holds Derek's face. He rubs his thumb against his jaw and then down his neck, other hand stays where it is because he's come to really like Derek's facial hair, just rubs his fingers against it.

He pushes his tongue forward, tries to catch Derek's mouth open, but he's nervous and it takes a few tries. The tip of his tongue touches to the wolf's bottom lip and Derek's fingers hold a little tighter on his hip, mouth opens for him while his tongue sneaks out to touch to Stiles'.

Stiles tentatively eases his forward, into Derek's mouth where Derek lets out a soft noise that he definitely catches, pushes a little more and slides his tongue against the older teen's, then back, quick across his bottom lip. He closes his mouth, pressing a kiss to his lip before he pulls away, making a soft noise of appreciation. He opens his eyes, looks up at him nervously, thinking maybe he'll find some sort of disapproval, but Derek's still got his eyes closed.

He smiles softly and leans in again, presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, feels Derek try and turn in to it. He whispers so that he can hardly hear it himself, "Are you okay?"

Derek leans in and rubs his cheek against Stiles', scrape of stubble that's slowly growing out to the point that they may have to call it something else. He smiles softly as he wraps his arm around him, to make sure he doesn't toss and turn when he sleeps.

"Yes."

Then Stiles is okay, too.


	11. I See A Bad Moon Rising

Warnings: Sexual situations

Summary: Trouble on the way?

* * *

Today's the day. Stiles doesn't know why he's excited for it. It may have something to do with him having his first kiss last night, but he tells himself no. He calls Scott, feels like he hasn't talked with him in ages, and asks if he needs help for the full moon. He can hear Allison in the background, and Scott's not concerned with himself, he's concerned with Stiles.

"You've been helping Derek." He says and Stiles groans, hits himself in the forehead. "Stiles, you know I didn't want you to. It could be dangerous."

"But I'm fine!" He insists, "Plus, he needs my help. So, getting me out of this isn't an option."

"Stiles." Scott sounds exasperated, "Tonight is the full moon. _The full moon_, dude. And you'll be alone, with an Alpha werewolf. No, okay? Don't do it."

"Too late. I'm already set up to help him." He really is, too. He's got a place to wait while Derek wolfs out, and has chains to hopefully keep Derek in place with.

"Just... Just be careful." Scott says, sincere and obviously worried. Stiles nods even though Scott can't see him.

"Yeah, Scott. I know."

"Say you will."

"I will."

He hears a sigh of relief, "If you need me-"

"I'll yell for you. I promise. Now, shut up. Don't psych me out." Stiles tells him, hears Derek walk into the room and watches as he settles himself in his computer chair. "You stay safe tonight, okay? I'll talk to you after the full moon."

"Okay, Stiles."

They hang up after that and Stiles slips his phone into his pocket. Derek beckons him over and Stiles lifts himself from his bed, walks over to him. The older teen pulls him gently forward, turning him so Stiles is sitting in his lap, back to Derek's front. He wraps his arms around his middle, lets the kid relax back into him.

"Are you okay? You sure this is safe?" Stiles asks, because only yesterday Derek's wolf was flaring up. He feels lips at the back of his neck.

"It's okay, I got it. Just... do some homework or something, okay? I just want you to do something easy, something that won't get your heartbeat up." Derek's voice is soft, hands holding him delicately. He can still feel Stiles buzzing with leftover, non-taken care of arousal and he wonders what to do with it.

"Um," He doesn't know if he can keep his heartbeat down while he's sitting in Derek's lap, but he's going to try for him, "Yeah, okay."

Derek turns them in facing the desk and Stiles opens his laptop, winces a little at the stretch of his shoulder. Derek's hands are moving up his chest, to the buttons of his flannel and undoing them, just enough to pull it back over one of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, carefully sets his hand on his arm just below the bandages, lips on the skin just after the bandages on the other side.

"Don't tell me that... Just kiss it better." Stiles says, redirects so Derek has something to do with his mouth other than apologize again. He's already forgiven him.

The older teen does immediately, leaving a slow trail of kisses up the back of his neck, nuzzling at his hair before moving his lips back down. Stiles feels how gentle he's being with him, how his thumb rubs slow, back and forth on the exposed skin of his bicep. How his lips press, how he waits one breath before continuing like he wants to make sure Stiles feels it, like he wants to make it seep in and do something good.

Derek moves to the other side, slipping the fabric down while he fixes the side he was on, pressing his lips to him again. Stiles cranes his neck as the wolf moves his lips forward, by his pulse point. It's not exactly the calm he wanted but it feels good, so Stiles tips his head back onto his shoulder, shuts his eyes.

Derek laps softly at his pulse point, redoing the buttons of his shirt to not get ahead of himself. Stiles' heartbeat is picking up, and he can smell the slight arousal that's starting to build up. He sighs against his skin, "Stiles, you okay?"

"Mm." The younger teen responds, "Can you keep going?"

"Yeah, we're okay. Just... try and stay calm." Derek tells him softly, feeling like he needs to do this, human and wolf both want. He has to do something with that smell, that feeling. Stiles will calm down, and he'll take the edge off the sexual tension that Stiles has tried to push down. He runs his hands down Stiles' chest, leans back in the chair so the kid comes with him. He settles his fingers on the button of his jeans, "I need you to breathe, okay? Breathe, and relax. You can do that for me, right?"

Stiles lets out a deep breath, lets his body relax, "Yeah, I can do that."

Derek makes sure he's relaxed himself, trying his best to make the wolf lay back. "You've been so on edge with what I've done. We have to take care of it before tonight." He pops the button on the other teen's jeans and pulls down the zipper, hearing a slight spike in his heartbeat, "Breathe, Stiles."

"Got it, got it." Stiles lowers his voice to a whisper, not even planning to open his eyes because he knows seeing Derek's hand in his pants will definitely get his heart racing. "Just warn me."

Derek slips his hand under his shirt and rubs his fingers against his hipbone, over to the trail of hair leading into his jeans. He whispers against Stiles' ear, "Warning."

He gently slips his hand into his jeans, going past his underwear. Stiles is half hard and he just circles his fingers around him, stilling himself after to let him calm down. The younger teen spreads his legs a bit, brings Derek's free hand up to set on his chest, fingertips at the pulse point of his wrist so maybe his own heart would get the hint and calm down.

"I'm okay?" He asks, licking his lips while he tries not to move his hips. He wants to rut up into Derek's hand, almost squirms just thinking about it as he hardens to full stance. Derek's stubble rubs against his skin, hand glides up once and his thumb circles around the head, where Stiles starts to leak precome. "O-Okay."

"Shh." Derek presses a kiss to his neck, doesn't know if he can take hearing Stiles' voice right now. It's a thin line here but he's calm enough, thumbs gently at the head of Stiles' length, smears the precome around before slowly starting to pump his hand.

The younger teen's mouth stays open, tries to breathe controlled breaths, hips arch up just the slightest bit. He tries, he tries to be calm, think back to their kiss and the comforting hugs. His heart starts to pound and he pushes everything away, presses his fingertips against Derek's wrist a little more to feel his pulse thump against him.

He shudders as the older teen's hand speeds up, tightens a bit. He wants to speak, tell him how good it feels, but all he gets out is a soft groan. Derek nibbles up by his ear, "This okay?"

"Y-Your hand's on my dick and you're a-ah, oh. Oh, god-you're asking me if it's _okay_?" He arches up, length twitches in Derek's hand and he has words to say now, "Please, it's okay. It's-It's more than okay. It's good. Great. Awesome. _Please_, Derek."

The older teen speeds up, the smell of Stiles assaulting his senses. Stiles' whole being is assaulting his senses, if he's honest. It's the best thing in the world. Light sweat and precome, the scent of Stiles' mint toothpaste as he breathes in and out. Heat of his body leaning fully against him. Heart a little fast but that's to be expected. He tells his wolf that it's to be expected and pulls a soft whine from the younger teen when he flicks his wrist on an upstroke._ Such a good noise_. Derek breathes against his ear, biting softly at the lobe and Stiles shudders, turns his face in and tries to kiss him, ends up licking at the corner of his mouth. Derek likes that, too.

He catches Stiles' lip gently between his teeth, getting him close enough before letting it go and Stiles presses his mouth to Derek's, bucks up against his hand with a muffled groan. "O-Oh, my God. Derek, I-I-"

Derek's tongue slips into his mouth, causing a moan and Stiles grips his hand, whines as he comes. He swears Derek shudders while he works him through it, muffling all his noises with his lips. When they part, Derek's eyes are a dull, pulsing red and Stiles gasps, body bucks forward without permission from his brain.

Derek takes a deep, deep breath and shuts his eyes for a moment, soft growl before he's pressing back into Stiles, just brushing his lips. He removes his hand and Stiles sits shakily for a moment, blushing when Derek says, "Go clean up."

* * *

"Dad, I'm just staying with Derek tonight. It's fine, I don't even need clothes-Oh, my God. That's not what I meant... Look, I just-I'll leave my phone on, you can contact me any time, it's fine." Stiles nods even though his father can't see him, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he makes sure the chains are secure against the tree.

Originally, Stiles was going to be the one that stayed outside, with Derek inside his house. But none of the pillars were going to be strong enough to hold Derek down. So, Stiles has a little nest of blankets and his backpack as a pillow, just in case he's to fall asleep. He doesn't think he will, but still. And Derek will be outside, bundled up for Stiles because he doesn't want him cold.

Derek comes out from the front door of the Hale house, sighing at the moon obstructed by clouds. He keeps close to the house while he moves along the porch, just in case.

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'm completely safe. Derek'll take care of me. Yeah, of course. No, I won't let him touch me there. Yeah, okay. Okay... _Okay_. Love you, too." He hangs up and shoves his phone back into his pocket, "Surprise, he already touched me there."

"I've touched you in a lot of places already, Stiles." Derek says and he watches Stiles start. The younger teen turns and smiles, nodding with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah... So, um. I'm glad you bundled up. Now, come on, to the tree." Stiles tells him, watches him walk over and lean against it, hold his hands up to him. He nods again, taking the wrists of Derek's sweatshirt and pulling them over his hands before clasping handcuffs on him, and then the shackles, which happened to be laying in Derek's basement for some fucked up reason.

He makes sure the chains going around Derek's waist don't dig into him and aren't too tight - he really doesn't want to hurt him - and leans up to touch his face, dig his fingers into Derek's thick stubble. "You're gonna be okay. No question. You're gonna be fine. Remember, just breathe. Think about how awesome I am. Do something that'll distract you."

He sees Derek's eyes flicker slowly into a brilliant crimson and he nods, leans up more and presses a kiss to the wolf's forehead. He backs up after, gives a reassuring smile before jogging up to the house, going inside to his blankets to wait it out.

He can see the moon from half the ceiling missing as it comes out from behind the clouds, casting its glow over everything. He hears the clink of the chains, Derek's gasp as it most likely gets to him. Stiles can't see him, honestly didn't really want to, but he can hear the shake of the chains while he moves, the dead silence when he doesn't, and the heavy breathing as he does what Stiles told him. That brings a soft smile to Stiles' lips as he settles in, drapes a blanket over himself.

He still listens, even if he doesn't hear much more than a low scraping sound, occasional grunt. He listens and sleep starts to get the better of him, making his eyes droop and his body curl in on himself for warmth.

Then there's a break. A loud, echoing_ crack_ that makes him bolt upright, heart hammering. He takes a deep breath and whispers shakily, "B-Breathe, think about how awesome I am, do something that'll distract you." He repeats it a few times, gasping as another crack sounds, chains jingling, something hitting dirt.

"Oh, God. Derek... Calm down. Just try and calm down. Remember what I said, what I told you." He thinks about getting up, checking or just looking out at Derek, but he can't bring himself to. Maybe he's sort of afraid of what he might see, that it might get his heart rate up. Or maybe he's just scared to see that Derek's in pain with the shift. God, he's _worried_. He's so, so worried. What if he shifts all the way? What if the bonds are too tight? What if it's hurting him?

He's up in an instant, shaking and moving for the front door and outside, stumbling down the porch steps to be-

Blindsided.

He's lifted off the ground and held up by his thighs, leaving him to cling before he falls. He's taken back to the blankets, laid down carefully and bundled up, body between his legs leaning over him. He looks up and there's Derek's face, eyes red... but otherwise completely normal. Derek smiles at him, hands coming up and thumbs rubbing against his cheekbones.

"D-Derek, you okay? You-How did you get out of the chains?" Stiles asks, eyes wide. He's not _scared_, exactly. Just worried.

"I didn't." He lifts his hands, broken cuffs still on his wrists, "...I broke the tree."

"Oh, Derek." He starts with a frown, but doesn't think he'll finish any of what he's about to continue with, Derek's mouth latching onto his neck, suckling and pressing kisses.

"It's okay. I'm okay." The older teen mumbles against his skin, "I found it."

"Found what?" He cranes his neck, letting his hands thread into Derek's hair.

"What keeps the wolf calm. What keeps _me_ calm. God, I can't believe it took a fucking full moon to see it." He whispers against his ear, nuzzling his cheek against him after, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His hands skim along Stiles' sides, can feel his warmth even under all the layers.

"L-Like... Like an anchor?" Stiles relaxes for him, laying back and just letting him, this time not because he has to, not because there's any mania in this. Just because he _wants_.

Derek smiles, kisses the corner of his mouth, just almost touching his lips"Yeah. Exactly like that. That's what it is." He presses their foreheads together, "Let me kiss you."

"You can do whatever you want."

"Don't tell me that."

"...I didn't tell you that."

"Good." The older teen dips down and seals their mouths together, makes it slow and sweet; calm and lazy. That's how Stiles feels now, calm and lazy. Pleased and sleepy. He blindly reaches one hand out, patting the blankets until he finds purchase on the keys to the cuffs.

"Derek-Mm, Derek. Just lemme-" He gets him biting at the corner of his mouth, teeth favoring his top lip, tongue favoring his bottom lip. "W-We can always tie you back up if you don't wanna listen."

Derek gives him a moment, nibbling at his jaw so he can speak.

"Thank you. Gimme your hands." He fits the key into the hole and unlocks them when they're presented, rubbing his fingers against his wrists after even if they're not hurt. "You okay?"

"Mhmm." Derek nuzzles down his throat, licking softly at the tendon, "Stiles, I want to build a pack."

"T-That's great." He lets Derek touch at his sides again as he moves to run his fingers through his hair, letting out a shuddering breath when Derek presses against him fully.

"With you, Stiles."

It takes a few moments for Stiles' brain to catch up.

But then Derek's grinding up against him.

And he decides he can talk with him about this later.


	12. Bright Future

Summary: "His _boyfriend_, that's what they're calling it now, but Derek's wolf secretly provides life partner, eternity partner, anchor, _mate._"

_Note: This is the last chapter! Oh, I'm actually really emotional to see this be done with, but I'm excited for all of you to read it. Thank you so much for sticking with this._

* * *

Sheriff Stilinski paces the dimly lit room, silent with a determined look on his face. He looks over at the teenager sitting at the table, watching him back. He slams his hands down on the table suddenly, but the guy doesn't so much as jump. Just watches him with an almost-smile on his lips.

"So, you think this is funny? This is a very serious matter. How old are you exactly?" He uses his best police officer voice, best police officer stone face.

"Twenty-four."

He walks around the table, pulling down the standing lamp - the only light source - and shining it into Derek's face, "Is that a lie?"

"No." The wolf squints up at him, "You know, I'm going to take good care-"

"You should. You _will_. You always will. He's precious, and no one likes if you break something precious. He's my little boy. As long as you have him-"

"I will always take care of him. No matter what."

The Sheriff nods, "Good."

Derek nods as well, "Yes."

"You know I don't approve of this because of your age, right?"

"I'm aware of that. But I'm not going to do anything he doesn't want me to."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Dad, what are you doing?" Light filters into the room and Stiles is standing by the shades, holding the string and looking at them both curiously. Sheriff Stilinski moves the lamp away, stands it back up and takes a step or two back from Derek.

"Nothing, just talking."

"Good, good... So, now that your interrogation's been interrupted, I need to _actually_ talk to him." He gives a smile and crosses the room, grabs Derek's hand to lead him up to his room.

"Yeah. Fine, I guess." His father nods, swings a hand in the way they're going before he heads into the kitchen. He's still not done with Derek, but he'll let him go for now.

Stiles leads Derek up to his room, lets go of him only to quietly close the door behind them. He turns to see Derek sit down on the bed, watching him. "So, we need to talk."

The older teen nods. Stiles leans against the door, then thinks it's not close enough, so he goes and sits next to Derek... But then it feels too television, too we're-about-to-have-a-serious-conversation-serious-serious-serious. So he sighs and slips down onto the floor, getting his hand under the back of Derek's knee to tug a little, beckoning him down as well.

He can hear Derek chuckle quietly, before he's coming down and turning to face him, taking his leg and arm and pulling him closer. The wolf slips one of his own legs under both of Stiles' propped up ones, and his thigh braces Stiles' back. When Stiles gives him a look, Derek just takes his hand.

"Heh. Okay." He nods, squeezes the older teen's hand. "Okay, um... This is about what you said. T-The other night. You said that you wanted to... Wanted to make a pack with me?" Derek's eyes spark with interest and he continues, "I don't know how that would work... Like, I can't have kids. Well, you know that. Duh, obviously. I don't uh, I guess what I'm not getting is how... Or why."

"I don't want you pregnant. I want you. You're... You're my anchor. I can switch my powers on and off." He lets his eyes glow bright red, then makes them settle down again, "Just like that. It's pretty amazing, actually."

"I never doubted it was. But, I-I'm... Me, really? Like me, your anchor? That one thing that keeps you grounded over everything else?"

"You're very important to me."

"Well... Well, yeah. I guess so." He smiles when Derek rubs his thumb against his hand, "So, a pack, huh?"

"I want to ofter the bite to people that absolutely need it, absolutely want it." The older teen nods, sounding excited, "And don't worry. They'll respect you, because you'll be higher up in the pack."

"Are you gonna bite me?" Stiles' heartbeat speeds up just a little, because he's not sure if he wants that yet, or at all. He just doesn't want to go through the shit Scott did. He's thinking through all of that, and how content he is with being human when it comes down to it, and comes back to Derek at his neck, breathing against his skin, "O-Oh, wow."

Derek chuckles softly, nips at Stiles' throat with his human teeth, "I'll offer it to you on your eighteenth birthday, among many other things. If you say no, that's fine with me."

The younger teen nods, tilting his head up for him, "W-Wait, did you just sneak in 'no sex until you're legal'?"

"I will still be wildly inappropriate with you until then."

"...Works for me." Stiles says before he's turning in, kneeling between Derek's spread legs and kissing him.

* * *

They spend time searching for good candidates, and during that time they have their first real dinner with Sheriff Stilinski. Derek apologizes for lying and is very formal with him, calling him 'sir' and not eating before him. Stiles asks him many times throughout the meal if his dad believes in supernatural things, to which he replies, "Like werewolves and ghosts?"

"Funny you said werewolves..."

And that's how they tell him.

He takes to it particularly well, and then once dinner is over, he takes Derek out on the porch to talk with him. Derek's nervous and doesn't sit before him, because the Sheriff - the father of his _boyfriend_, that's what they're calling it now, but Derek's wolf secretly provides life partner, eternity partner, anchor, _mate_ - is higher ranking to him now, in his mind.

"All those times Stiles was at crime scenes, and showed up at home too late for comfort... He was helping you?" The Sheriff asks, like maybe he doesn't want to know the answer.

"Mostly, yes. Stiles is brilliant, and we've saved each other a few times. Him more to me the last little while."

"Because you're the Alpha of Beacon Hills?"

"Yes. And Stiles keeps my human side in control."

Stiles' father chuckles, "He's spastic, but he controls an Alpha werewolf."

Derek chuckles as well, because that's sort of the case. But then he goes serious, "I am allowed to have him, yeah? I-I want to keep him forever."

"I know you love him, and that you'll take care of him. You're vowing to protect him?" He's serious, too. This is about Stiles, and his safety. The Sheriff is trying to accept everything, and it will be easier if his mind is at ease with his son's well-being promised.

"I swear. I'll protect him with everything I have." Derek promises, feels the moon come out from the clouds and looks out toward it, "Always."

The Sheriff's hand settles on his shoulder and he almost winces, just because no one but Stiles does that. The man has kind eyes and he smells like coffee and Stiles, and his words are so sincere that they pull at Derek's heart. "Thank you for protecting my son."

He nods wholeheartedly, because he's at a loss for words. When they get up to head back into the house, Stiles' face is pressed against the window of the door because he's been trying to hear the conversation.

* * *

After two more days, Derek meets a scared boy in a cemetery that's fallen into a grave that he has to dig for his job. He's got a black eye and looks terrified when Derek appears, tears building in his eyes.

Derek jumps down in the grave and sets a careful hand on the boy's shoulder - watches him whimper and flinch away - and gently coaxes him to telling him his name even if he already knows it.

"Isaac." He whispers, all broken, "What do you want?"

"I want to help you, Isaac."

Isaac ends up curled in Stiles' bed that night, cautiously eating while he looks around Stiles' bedroom. The Sheriff says Isaac looks like he's been abused, and Stiles agrees. Derek _knows_ he has.

Stiles is offering Isaac ice cream when he reaches out and touches him, moves his curls away from his forehead. Derek's heart swells when Isaac doesn't flinch away very much. And when Stiles is scooping the chocolate ice cream into a bowl for him, Derek says, "I want him for the pack."

Stiles agrees instantly, and Derek takes the ice cream up to Isaac.

Isaac is turned the next night, knowing all the rules and what he's agreeing to. He only asks if Derek would also turn a girl he knows, if she wants it. Derek smiles fondly and Stiles holds his about-to-be pup's hand as he sinks his teeth into his side.


End file.
